fingers creep around your hips
clamping skeleton through skin
your stomach concave,
i rest my head there to listen.

you breathe deeply and out a shudder
directing my hands from your hip
and around your arched spine, now rise.
your exhales leave marks on the walls- our spies.

let them hear in gasps and oh's
our wordless recounts of smile & woe,
let them wish for eyes to peak,
our limbs speaking between sheets.

they will suppress mounting urges that could not hold,
blank faces will cover stories
from one lover to another
in a distressed ****** smother.

You have reason to be a non-believer, you have reason to not care.
You've had people take you to the ends of love and leave you right there.

It is in bold pursuit of what is rare,
That a journey would seem most unfair,

Paved in stories of despair-
A path extending nowhere.

If affection was a dragon you've cautiously approached its lair,
Watched it in slumber & patiently lain your snare.

You have woken it accidentally to be caught in a merciless glare,
And avoided scorching burn as its wide nostrils would flare.

To move forward in such hunt no girl should dare,
Triumph in love needs a woman to tame beast as she would oft tame her hair.

Many a man searching for love remain rooted to chair,
But with boundless confidence you seek the Heart's Throne as its heir.

And no matter how thick a robe its crown shall wear,
Abreast your fierce aura even dragon hide will tear.

It is along my own story that I find yours and wish to share,
A tale of two beings in forced singularity but thinking in pair.

...A lost soul hears the approach of another as it disturbs his air,
Burning his eyes, a mother of dragons seeks love & climbs her final stair.

Before bed I whispered to myself the story...
Of the first time we shared, "I love you's."

I lay awake that night, I'm sorry,
Like a child who got new shoes.

Keeping this pair clean was really no worry,
Despite the many uses they'd accrue.

For each time I slipped into an I love you,
I walked away feeling more new.

If lacking warmth, then one find fire,
If dreaming of sleep, then one retire.

If my eyes seek another's gaze to pursue,
Then life has ruled my search is for you.

Time ticks and tocks at the pulse of your heart,
Its thumps govern what is day when night to start.

I find it fine that peace no more my own, is ground in rhyme with your pace,
My wilting breath still willing to stir if your clock shall plunge into a race.

As tenant to your love,
I heed whispers from above...

Each cycle, your blood echoes troubled wails trailing from your mind,
Rest m'lady, I am bound to you, such that any distress you face shall now be mine.

At each calm after storm…

Rainwater turns to vapour in no particular order,
Mixing moisture, forming cloud, to wash the earth in new vigour.

And so alike,

My mind drinks the memories reined by thee,
And at night they turn to dream clouds atop my sleep,
Watching, that I rise each morning a new you mixed with me.

I shower myself each and every day until next to dawn
Then lay by you turning vapour to your soft speech and yawns.

it is no coincidence
that dying is to studying
as backward love is to revolution

it is in small paradoxes
that life calls to us from a distance
like trickling rivulets of a raging ocean
whose sound is truly realized when one peers over its cliff...

loud and unyielding, it cannot be studied in parts for its current wears on as if invisible to parched eyes all too lost it its roars of rapids or raptly intent on sitting still in meditation

and at height, away, we stand
our ears perked toward the truth
gentle mist settling like stars against our faces and hair
whispering

that life is jumping off a cliff and it will always move on