Phantasm yet again

I awoke early on Friday
The weather had started to warm
And my brow was moist.
There, you lay, unassuming.
Here, I stared, unabashedly.
Wondering if you could feel my eyes
My cornea scanned from the crown of your head
Around your lips, inside your ears, to the nape
Of your plum skinned neck.
I was searching for an entrance
To get inside your head,
But I didn’t have the directions
So I stayed lost in your mystery
Happily sent wandering south
Where your breastbone and clavicle and ribs
Come together to cradle your heart
Like a sleeping child surrounded by thorn.
And I hear your pulse;
Thudding like thumbs on summer Melon.
You are ripe.
Frightened, I pick the fruit,
yet resign to the rind.