Invasion

Why do you come unbidden?
I have not summoned you
not asked your eyes to
materialise from nowhere
penetrate the air near my face
roam me with your soft cow-eyed stare
ravage me with your warm breath against my ear
brushing the crook of my neck
where I'm most ticklish.

I have not invoked your presence
out of the blue, when I'm doing something else
You interrupt my perfectly ordinary day
interfere with my logical train of thought
halt me in the middle of normal conversations
so I stumble awkwardly, trip and fall
flat on my face with half finished sentences
a sudden onset of verbal dyslexia
in an embarrassingly rising volume
baffling with acute, inexplicable incoherence.

I did not agree for you to
seize and knot my heartstrings
so all at once I cannot breathe
gasp for air in an airless room
lurch into an invisible space midstep
and tumble down the rabbit hole
only to re-emerge red faced
warm sweat breaking under the hairline.

I doubletake behind me
in case it really was you
running your finger down my spine
digging deeply your chin into
the hollow of my shoulder
where you belong
so I could lean, inhale the spicy scent of you
press my back against your pounding chest
as you steal your arm about my waist.

No. I did not invite your invasion.