Weak in the Knees

Admitting
Weakness
Can be tough
But then
Admission
Could snowball
Into unexpected
Volumes
Speaking
To your
Secret heart.
Opulent
Rocky road
Ice cream.
Frosty green
Margaritas
Salt encrusted rims.
Soft and warm
Insistent kisses.
Quickened
Hot breath
Upon my neck.
Barely there
Silken underwear
And high count
Cotton sheets
On freshly shaven
Legs.
Toasted sugar
Scent
Of cotton candy
Wafting over
The fairgrounds
A small, sweaty
Hand resting
In mine.
These things
Belong
To me.
To hold
And savor
Deep within.
Not weakness
But
Strengthening
My inner
Retreat.