Were my words....
the hands
that sculpted
the heartbeat
of your soul
into the breath
that passed
across my shoulders,
in places where
your fingertips
brushed back my
hair, exposing
the curve
of my neck...

Were my thoughts,
a bridge, I traveled
into a place where
time stood still,
save for the
moonlight whispers
of your...
Fantasy
cascading down
the passages
of my dreams,
turned the brightest
shade of scarlet
for the want of you,
burned
Monet to skin

I lay, undone

Longing to be
the Masterpiece
you create
with your touch,
aching to feel the
soul you paint
into my eyes
Glazed, windows
to the fire,
banked no more
let free,
to burn, cinders

Ash ascends,
quickens the breath
that become the
wings of crimson
glow, born of
inhalations of
distant blue...
graze the smoulder
that pierces the
horizon,
invisible heat,
seeking the
source with
eyes of touch,
requiring no
preordained
destination...

Let fall, the rain

Staccato,
to cleanse our
flesh, slick
with the wet
of salvations
thirst, strums
to move our
souls, to one
Twined
into frenzied limbs
I reach for
the fire in you
out of the ashes
let us rise, reborn
to worship
the heat of day
as you carve your
Absolution
into my palms
raised to the
glory of nights
inhaling sunrise

My words....
hands that sculpted
the heartbeat
of your soul
Moistened in
the reign,
fingerprints,
tracing the
press upon
skin, as they
tingle...
indulging
in a season,
somewhere in between
a winter without creed,
and the spring of our
confessions,
spilling over the banks
of our deliverance....