Someone told me our bodies contain enough carbon to make 900 pencils ending it with "you can write with your body"
First, let my body meet yours let our fingertips touch and let our bodies yearn to start some good writing tease our carbons to create, to begin to fall to blend to melt
Now darling the only way I'd begin a poem is with you starting with a kiss a capital kiss for the first letter of the first word should be bold and beautiful silent but loud
The sentences my body start yours finish no matter how long "run on's", fragmented they are you start I finish, I start you finish
Interrupted by breaths gasping for life, inhaling the souls of muses and exhaling such beautiful poetry, such deep writing that only our bodies know how to create, how to read, how to vocalize how to share
Stanzas interrupted by moans that sing and hum the hymns of poetry that cannot be embodied in words moans that orchestrate symphonies leading our bodies to dance to love to enjoy such intensity that my pencils fail at capturing
Let my body write with yours and re-write the ways of love edit, proofread, scratch, claw mark and re-create new ways of falling of loving, of sighing let my body write with yours and bask under such powerful chemistry where carbon burns And flames ignite