your way the who the body
swells the
lifts the
prurient
skirt

of my thoughts
with
the niggling
wafer of
your thighs

feel better than
my cheeks
can feel the air
(and i can only breath when)
they are untogether together.

feeling–and your back does–how
do you feel
about how
feelingly it

musters razors
in my skin when
your *** also?      (and how can i
                                describe how it
                                feels like joy
                                made some
                                supple real of
                                realness in two
                                halves of a broken
                                perfect?                      )


it defies words.

there is no cheap no word no sentence
made that by does not at describing it
become.

i am myself, and can i say how much
that is a better thing when i am between you? are

And how can describe it?

the way it turns so deeply into creases
of divinest flesh;

half feet
half knees

upon who hurts to pray inside you
my love fist?

it cannot be said nor sung nor anything
but tasted into one swoon of many tongues
upon it–

my mouth has lived whole years not so pleasant as five minutes between your hips.