What if I told you your secrets,
The ones you never tell--
lime green off the tree
at the edge of our
laughter, whispering words almost
abandoned.  Love is the way you hold my hand.

We are listeners, you and I, tracing
back the conversation, almost to its
beginning,  sharing the cost
of fear, if that's what it is, where it
begins, this knowledge of each other.

Do you look away afraid?
I do.  You live in the future,
of what might be my soul:  possible?
Give me your pleasure,
Permit me in your story, face to face.
Come, come to my bed.