You speak too quietly that I forget you are suffering.
You move too silently yet your touch is deafening.
Your gaze burns heatedly, it should be frightening,
yet your touch comes too gently, still terrifyingly captivating.

I reach blindly, caught up in the whole of you, searching.
I grasp tightly, not knowing what I found, yet still wanting.
I am confused. I do not know the depth of your soul, the extent of it.
I cannot comprehend it. Yet I let myself sink slowly.
I am drifting. I am not afraid.