Don’t tell me about passion,
how the flesh covering bones
can rarely see beyond the flames
once so deliciously scorched.
Once so exposed for another to see,
all of my mistakes and scars handed over
for you to hold and see yourself within.
Don’t confess your fears with a sound,
let me sense your fragile heart
as it beats against my own,
hums at the core of all we are.
Don’t explore or tempt me with words,
the light in your eyes casts a hungry glow,
telegraphs what language often obscures
with far too much unnecessary detail.
Speak to me with arms and legs
wrapping around me in the night,
sing your song with a deep kiss
that roars with furious curiosity.
Don’t tell me about need
or speak about the soul,
about what makes creatures beautiful
enough to sink entirely through the skin,
twined into a perfect singular form.
Don’t speak to me of need,
mirror it with pure lust
glazing our locked eyes,
coating tongues that endlessly search
and vibrate in a chorus of moans
surging with every raw thrust.
Once so exposed for another to know,
all of our wants communicated
before throbs awaken and race,
where your tight channel clenches
to say how I belong to you.
So don’t tell me about connection
when I carry us wherever I go,
when I taste you in every breath,
speaking without a word.
Humming at the core of all we are.
