I wanted to write about it hours later,
how your kiss still burning on my lips
is proof of some invisible connective tissue
tethering us no matter where we go.
I wanted to write about the throaty rasp
emitting from the curve of your throat
as a wordless invitation to explore more skin,
or how sometimes you taste like rain,
an earthly sweetness that men are not
permitted to entirely understand.
I wanted to decode all your marks,
the messages that steadily whisper
and ripple in every valley under your skin,
how when I’m so close to understanding,
I may really know nothing at all.
Or how a single kiss can be like
the inside of a furious storm
and suddenly presses me to your chest,
against the only thunder I understand,
blood boiling as we sail to such edges
where oblivion seems so inevitable
yet we always return whole.
I longed to describe how we take one another
in the gathering darkness of your room,
how such a small and sacred space
is a womb we are born again within,
or how we are neither predator or prey
yet remain as two beasts descending,
forever driven by the ancient hunt.
I ached to detail the honeyed sheen
glistening from a fleshy mysterious pearl
begging to be touched and tasted,
even if its sudden violent pulses
are not meant to be entirely understood.
I wanted it forever carved into me,
a universe mirrored in wisps across your eyes
the moment I begin to move through you,
the intensity is proof of time’s fluid nature.
It’s proof that everything thrumming
between the invisible connective tissue,
from the way you’ll claim the purest piece of me
to the way our pain was silently soothed,
to how the afterglow is what we really reach for….
I’ve spent years trying to describe what will
tether us no matter where we go.
These are the things that always remain here.
Things I am not permitted to entirely understand.
