Two Figures

I feel myself slipping, slipping
Slowly into the mist of the dark, red abyss
Losing sense and reason willingly
Drifting eagerly into the unknown

A face comes creeping, creeping
Into my muddled view
Two warm green globes peruse me
Lips parting greedily in my presence

The figure comes closer, closer
It is now under my hand, under my inspection
A wide, defined, edgy jaw
I trace it longingly with a stray finger
And drink in the strength, the solidity, the security
As the large hands wrap firmly behind my waist
And draw me near

I fall headfirst, deeper deeper
Until I do not know where I am
I resurface suddenly, the instability jolting me
To the sight of a new lovely face

This jawline is smoother, gentler
Coming together in a nicely rounded point
The spheres a crystalline blue
Peering out from underneath the lashes

The fingers clasp lightly behind my waist
But they are more relaxed, less urgent
As our figures morph into each other and give way
The auburn hair envelopes my being

This time when I come up to breathe
I fail, gasping, flailing in the viscous liquid
I cannot see, I cannot feel
Only the two images are burned into my mind's eye

Both are equally beautiful in their own rite
One tougher, supportive
The other more precious and sensual
But which one will I pick?

Who's to say I must choose?

The figures are drastically different, wonderfully imperfect
But both equally desirable nonetheless
The shimmering globes, the caressing fingertips and pressing palms
The hyper charged closeness
The human

And in my choice to make no choice
My body floats upward into the breaking waves
And the fresh air
My soul views love once again