If words we’re a vacuum, not just vacuous,
the conversation would still suck,
But instead I’d be pulling my orbit to a path ’round your star,
for near or far I search my heart and there you are, burning like a sun giving fuel to my fire.
A pyre made in pilgrimages to the Mecca in your eyes,
A brightness at actions I can claim at and cite,
A bite and the plight beneath those parking lots’ lights.
A jubilation at the sight of you,
How have you in me these feeling wrought each and every night?
Brought carnality to my dreamscape,
Sought out your sweetness and in waking,
Your flavor I can still taste,
a semblance of a simulacrum based on the sweetly salty scent when you’re a little sweaty from whatever thing it is you’re making.
I would give my dream to you if only you’d just let me,
Because it’s more than just because we think we’re both blessedly dead sexy.
Next to me, we’d be:
Learning from each other, sharing knowledges and passions;
Songs and stories in the kitchen while we cook and clean thereafter in our fashions;
Strong hands on trim hips, engaging balances mythic in holds bold and very specific – with monolithic recourses.
Speeches from souls, safe from the storm,
When we broke from the norm and let love smolder in full form – not just words-borne.