Two things happen if I feel that tickle at my heart. I read/write poetry and I dress myself more nicely than usual.

Sex makes many demands, and somehow it seems wisest to respond to them without necessarily taking them at face value. What we repress return to us.

Bacchanalia (J.B.Bernstein)

I lie
Before you soaked
in white orchid, its redolence
assails like devil’s fire. And when
you sheathe my body
with your flame, I get drunk
from the blood of you  the flesh of you.
Then, when the new moon mounts
black sky, I inhale your breath
and pray to you: Swallow me
alive.