they may seem nomadic at times,
but I always roam with purpose,
noting what safe harbors you hold.
What places rest in shadows and wait
for one specific torch to illuminate
you entirely from the inside,
what chambers patiently ache to be filled.
Some pockets and ridges hold secrets,
smooth slopes quivering with life beneath,
some are far more cautious,
only bending to certain murmurs,
charged by the frenzy I’ve contained.
The moment I’m lost inside you,
enclosed and never wanting to be found,
I’ll see you in myself and everyone else.
My hands can find all the keys,
combinations and turns to open you,
every code is with purpose when
breaching such a delicate lock.
Such places can turn into shadows,
receding inlets and lights flaring out,
hollows knowing the difference
between desire and cold premeditation.
Some grooves and valleys can’t be coaxed
into the folds of secrets whispering beneath,
the frenzy I’ve kept motionless until now
can charge through your cautious eyes,
through the soft lace separating us.
Because I always roam with purpose
and the moment I’m lost inside you,
enclosed and never wanting to part,
I’ll see you in myself and everyone else.
