Prised from your mouth
I am fully risen
to the ache that pours
nectar in peach sin,
so slippery to your lip
as your smile splays
across my skin

I am folded taut,
revealed in curves
in the suckling of night
as translations
of words unspoken
list the weave
between swollen moments

succumbing to your fire


held above to
shatter the mines of need,
each shaft stains
against heaving breath
as I strain
to grasp the boiling
of your drenching
surges with teeth and nail

where my voice blends
to the ache and growl
of your tongue,
sedition is slain on this precipice
stroked into a blaze
your raging
is my primal victory
as is our tempest to race,

lost in naked textures...