narrowing the quiet universe,
this dark and warm bedroom,
expanding the echo of heartbeats,
little vibrations that seem to
hum softly to together.
Flesh always grazes heat,
blood surges in its invisible tides,
its flowing, fluid sonata,
the place we gradually wove
to meet together in safety.
Nothing is veiled here, though.
Immersed in your depths,
the hidden crescendos found,
the notes that untie knots
into aching blossoms.
Always ripe with metaphors….
You once said it’s as if
you were an exotic ocean
and I embodied the unseen,
the darkness piercing the entirety,
the beautiful, untouched waters.
The mysteries breathing
below such a gentle surface,
the primal undercurrents,
always stay between us
every particle imbued with
the essence we’ve shared.
You’ve been my most familiar ache
coupled with mysteries that I
never quiet or know how to unravel,
I don’t understand the craftsmanship
of such delicate seams yet,
perhaps I’m not meant to.
Maybe I learn more by feeling
the unique textures of each thread
with my curious, patient hands,
each one is a lifeline that contains
history my fingertips hunger for.
Our bare skins nuzzle closer,
narrowing the quiet universe,
this dark code whispered
as my name slowly glides
from between your lips.
Flesh grazes heat to carry us
into that shapeless place,
contractions of hard and soft,
of the rough and smooth
flare with equal measure.
Immersed in your depths,
the hidden notes sing,
merge into a fluid tide
that only knows fire.
Always ripe with metaphors….
I once said that you remind me
of moments when a storm pauses,
of the sky mirroring frozen chaos,
I don’t mistake such a stillness for calm.
You would never be content to just
graze these waiting shores and retreat,
or only know hints of a star’s
illumination mapping your fingertips.
You’ve been the most familiar ache,
calling out to me each night in tones
that often hide beneath a veil,
knowing I understand this code,
that my fingertips seek and unravel
a history hungering for the primal
undercurrents we surrender in.
I learn more the closer
we nuzzle together,
with or without metaphor,
the quiet universe narrows.
Flesh always grazes heat.
Nothing is veiled here.
