HIM
He has made me lose control.
His hands, roaming, searching for something on my body.
He searches every inch of me as if he is searching for his most valuable possession.
He is the hiker and I am the mountains he has come to explore.
Goodness, his hands.
They are so big. They make me feel small.
They’re soft in touch, rough in texture. They are experienced hands. He is the keeper of my life.
So much power in those hands.
His hands hold my life.
His eyes are two glasses filled with wisdom.
They are all knowing. His eyes know me- they know the world.
When he isn’t holding me with his hands, he’s holding me in his eyes.
His eyes are the iron shackles, I am the prisoner.
They hold the moon and the brightest stars.
I crumble underneath his gaze.
They make me weak.
They’re so full of power and desire.
His eyes hold me prisoner.
His love is like a river.
It keeps flowing and flowing.
I am the earth, he is my source of water.
I need his love to stay alive.
Without it, I am as dry as the summertime desert.
I am thirsty. I am parched.
Not even the Pacific Ocean can quench this thirst.
His love is the only resolution.
His love quenches my thirst.
His soul is a sacred burial ground.
He absorbs everyone yet, remains his own.
His soul shines brighter than the sun.
He holds the galaxies inside himself.
He is the mother,
the father,
the wise man,
the new born child.
He is the world.
He is us.
