When you have already
watched her dance
having never seen something
so free,

a beautiful spinning top
on the edge of reason.

When she enters your grungy
apartment for the first time
takes her shoes off smiling
she sits on your couch.

She trusts your dog tired eyes
and what lies behind them.

When the first time your lips touch
you feel as though the universe
itself becomes small enough
to fold up and fit in your pocket.

All that is begged, borrowed, or
bought becomes free.

When all of this happens and
you reach to caress the side of
her neck as you passionately
bite her bottom lip,

know that what follows may not be expected, most things seldom are.

When she trembles, it is not because
you are a second coming Casanova
nor does she see you portraying
a detrimental Don Juan.

In every man lies the possibility
of both sinner and saint.

When she trembles, it is because
in that moment the passion burning
so brilliantly is as frightening to her
as it is to you; both brush set ablaze.

She has the same stitches and
scars to show for it.

When she trembles, it is because
there are those that have come
before masquerading hate
cleverly disguised as love.

Sometimes hate is just love
with a chip on its shoulder.

When she trembles,  it is because
trusting something so powerful
without control can and has led
to the leveling of entire civilizations.

Every man on earth has an
Achilles heel, Helen knew this.

When she trembles, it is because
she knows as well as you do that
all flames came be extinguished by
the smothering of wants and have nots.

You are both neither broken or whole;
a shattered mirror still reflects.

When she trembles, it is because
the thought you can fit so perfectly
in a hole she has spent an entire
lifetime forgetting about is petrifying.

You do the only thing you can do,
kiss her and then let her go.