I know your every scent by now.
The way you turn, scratch and sigh when
You can't sleep while I very well could
Would be something I'd miss if

Tomorrow saw us apart.
Still, when hands soft as your innermost
Find my weather worn shoulders and
Pull my face to your chest

As if trying to drown me in woman,
I smile against your full softness with
The juvenile intensity of a new born poet;
I will write on you with my mouth's skin.

If you kiss my eyes out, I'll still read
Our joined memories with my concrete-
Torn fingers; the scars we've loved onto
Each other, braille of yesterlust.

Animal carvings; knives and chisels of the
Absence of moral illusion.
In the instant between painful pleasure
And pain, I'll be more home with you

Than in any. Your pulse is ours.
Your moan is mine.
The sweat on your back always marries
That of my chest,

And when you want me to stop,
I'm about to. I'll look at your closed eyes
And wonder again and again and again
How to get you to take this forever.