Nighthearts

Nights, for when the ceiling turns into a giant screen displaying your image as I close my eyes. Quietly broadcasting the coppery tones of your honeyed voice, conveyed stealthily in digital surround which resonates through my being, slowly traversing into the nerve endings to explode in indescribable phenomenon through a channel of veins, sloughing the underside of my body to render the redolence of your skin as it lay unclothed on top of mine.