I exist between here and the deep blue sea;
here, and the olive tree;
between water and mango.
I sign letters in another's name
to profess my love to you;
like lilac in wind and rain
I endure.
Like rosehips in a summer breeze
swaying in their gentle dance -
bending to the higher force
in devoted trance.
And my love is wild and wicked
as a thicket of thorned roses;
my heart, that hungry, livid thing
twists itself in painful poses
at the mere sight of your face.
What is a soul when split in two,
if not a home to return to?
What is your gentle, tender touch
if not the ultimate reward,
a dream come true, an ache for more -
the yearning for "la petite mort".
I want to touch you like the ocean
crashing against a rocky shore.
I want to taste you like Eve
taking the first bite of sweetness.
I want to see you, hear you sing,
watch you throw yourself into the fire
of the night, the heat surrounding
your naked body, and mine.
I want to hold your legs apart
and flick my tongue against ripe fruit,
a peach-furry, strange delight,
red and eager, biting back,
licking scratching opening, not
in defense, but pleasure.
I exist between here and the deep blue sea;
between here, and the olive tree;
between thigh and hip.
I sign letters in another's name
to profess my love to you;
like a hummingbird at sunrise
I want to drink the morning dew.
