I want to touch you until my hands lose grip and meaning,
and we've lost the world we thought to be seeing.
Til' from my palm,
gone,
the creases of fortune,
the mangle of time.
I want to love you,
so true and so hard
even our kisses start to rhyme.
Wordlessly plead,
your worship, your prurience,
your where and when.
The ache of my silent needing
dripping on down your chin.