A finished piece?

A poem I posted last blog. (That I'm finished now... I think?)

I am laid open,
Like mahi- mahi found in a dark cantina neighborhood bar.
A new taste
Nestled on intruiging lips.
I may be the essence you've been missing.
The craving you could never grasp.
Meals become an excuse to satisfy wants.
To touch knees and exchange long glances.
I am hungry
For more conversation.
For more stolen moments.
Where bug bites are reminders of exposed thighs
And the path of your fingers.
Your skin,
Bronze and soft
Tangled with my limbs
And emotions.
Anticipation has left me wanting
More of you:
A magic woman,
Who harnesses me with a condemned smile
And kisses as if the world is melting to ashes.
I am merely ashes.
Delicate and grey from my past,
Easily moved by a strong breeze.
You remind me of a gust of wind sometimes,
How you sway and pulsate with a purpose unknown.
Sometimes I just want to float in you.
More times then that,
I'm happy to hold memories of you,
On the walls of my room.
I can remember each place where we danced in the dark
And found ourselves stumbling into each other.
Luckily my bed has always managed to be there if we fall.
But it will not always be so simple.
I was once a twister
That kissed the nape of a Queen's neck
And we are still waiting for the goosebumps to dissapear.
She still craves the chaos of me disheveling her space
And I,
Wish I didn't always make such a mess of things so beautiful.
But you are not this.
You are tough and free,
Stormy waves warning of a strong current.
A force of nature,
That I have managed to become tangled in.
Wading in currents perhaps too strong.
Swept up.