And the altar of our love was wrought in the dusky darkness of a parking lot,
where the sun and the moon came to light our world
when two lips that spent years in the service of speaking went silent
and sought only the sweet serenity
of seeking the other,
satiation in the subtlety of sparingly pecking and tenderly touching,
our tongues tearing past the safety of mouths to taste eternity of the soul expressed in the nearness and the love that could not be suppressed.
How blessed in this kindred spirit that entwined soul so many times before,
how fortunate to have found the fastness of her once again,
familiarity and fantasy and ferocity,
felicity in kissing and calling accolades in the humming moans that cannot help but escape as hands seek shoulders to draw bodies nearer – the chasm of atoms too far,
and hands finding purchase on hips and gripping, for space has engulfed us and to draw apart is to be an end,
it is everything I never even knew I was missing.
Blissful, we could still be kissing there,
two years later, but our pecks and scrapes and passionate pulses have perpetuated elsewhere,
across continents, spanning galaxies,
at sea level, on mountaintops,
Lover, you are everything I need,
more precious than the air I breathe,
entangling fingers into the roots that ring around your head,
pulling you into my orbit:
of everything I’ve learned these two years past was that suppressing that fear we all feel in first kissing was more than well worth it.