Mental Regurgitation

I desire her intensely. I often fixate on one of her physical attributes while she is distracted, such as the curves of her hair as it sweeps down her shoulder, or the microscopic geography of her lips. She is exquisite, and I fear that, blinded by everything else, I'm drawn to her by weakness, that my passion for her is incomplete.
When we talk, I often forget what I'm saying and grow dizzy with many variations of desire - some base, some ordinary, and some ethereal. Sometimes we tease, and sometimes we are earnest. But always, after our contention has spawned cool fire, we begin to kiss.
But she is gone.
In her absence, I'm drawn to many things that, in being beautiful, are her allies. The way the ocean bursts into brilliant flame when the sun assaults the horizon, a dark waving branch with waxen leaves, a sight of the stars through a cut in the trees, a girl throwing back her hair to the irresistible rhythm of a song. A concordance of colors compressed into a torchlit line of sight. The rain like ten thousand bb's hammering on beaten copper. I see the lightning, I feel my chest vibrate with each concussion, the bolts lashing out from hidden places as if they are calling me to things so stunning and unexpected that I cannot begin to imagine them.
I will see, touch, taste, and feel everything.