My dearest rough & rotten,
Are so full
So red
So very sweet.

Their warmth and yours
Is coursing through my veins
And the way you breathe
Is enough to knock me down.

But it doesn't need to;
I'm already here
Under your little scrappy form
Sinewy and poised, brimming with athleticism, masculinity.

This can't be right;
But I wouldn't want to live without this,
Without your hands,
Your pulse,
Your tongue,
Your Lips.