Rising

There is this feeling... almost dark to start, hidden, rising, tingling feeling.

It starts somewhere deep in my mind, creeping outwards. I am immediately conscious of it. Through my eyes, dilating my pupils, out through the pores of my skin, sweeping my cheekbones and over my chin, tickling my throat but caressing my neck.

It flushes my chest and hardens my nipples before dancing a jester jig around my heart, lighting it like a warm candle. My BPM rises. Then it rushes down, warm, slick, yearning. Wishing to never end though not even there yet like spring moves towards summer.

The fine hairs on my arms prickle and straighten as if straining their necks to see what is going on. My blood pushes every nerve to my fingertips and my toes, where it pushes back in an attempt to turn back on itself to not leave me, rippling. Eager to touch you. Like defending and covering all the walls of a fort, the blood pumps to the ramparts, ready for the slightest raring engagement.

No longer is it dark when it rushes and peaks, instead an explosion of light, an internal and overwhelming corporeal supernova.