textures retain their eloquence,
anchored in fog; its humble shroud.
elusive is the thrill of sight,
until these fingers touch your skin.
hollowed out interiors, this
twin device of patterned intake.
vacant lots find redemption when
through these tunnels, your scent revives.
and i, a wretch in your shadow,
conceding to completion of
such fulfillment. levels peaking.
your presence whole, your being light.