Chasing Highs Poem by Yiling Ding

The smooth fluid touch of silk,
an ephemeral moment
leaving me desirous for more.
And then the rough burning
of unrefined wool,
the rawness of its feel against
the delicate membrane of
my exposed infant heart.

The eye-watering heat, a
sensation rushing through my
unprepared frame, and slowly,
slowly, seeping into the
crevices of my mind, filling them
with euphoric addiction
to this damning but intoxicating
feeling.

The burning body beats itself against
the coldness of the mind.
An overwhelming sensation.
We try to catch ambrosia in our hands,
but we become broken with
the ethereality of its
divine flavors.