Slide

Your hand trickles across the table
over and covering my own,
a touch so simple yet eloquent
sending tingles to my soul.

Such potential stirs in that touch
and cascades over, though, upon me,
so I brace myself against the trembling.

I've become a mind of gelatin
the only form to hold onto
the mold I've made of myself.

Yet… one touch from you
and I'm shivering
in the potential of
your slide over me.