You
speak the words written on the hidden parts of my skin
then lick your lips to taste them.

Empty
lungs grasp for inhalation
still have space to gasp at the halation of our own creation.

Yet
forbidden from the surface ****** to the depths
where forceless purpose is slowly eroding
the dark and foreboding loathing
I have found floating within myself.

Buried
in the mud of the mundane
then swept under the rug of the claimed sane
now ashamed to admit that I've done the same thing.

Through
the heaviest darkness of my heart
and the blinding light of my brain
every time I get the chance
I use all my breath just to whisper your name.