Speak, speak........ And do not stop. From dusk to dawn, caress my body with your words. Look into my eyes, Lips closer still. Star-words tumble down, Take me to heaven. Breathe softly on my face, Without laying a hand. Time curls into a circle, Heart blazes in the fire. Nerves quiver like a string. Passion cascades like a waterfall. And the waves of excitement Now race toward completion. Just a few words more. Only shameless ones, please. Do not shy from love, I will allow you everything. Speak, speak........ Come then, beloved, I wait........ Thoughts burn with longing, I tremble with desire........ My body will arch. Startled, and now—the finale. I am no longer myself, dear. You made me this way........
# About Sex, Maybe About Love I don't know how to write about this— the way your breath catches when I touch the small of your back, how you taste of sleep and salt. There's no proper word for it, this hunger that isn't hunger, this thirst that water won't cure. The body speaks in a language older than poems, older than shame. We are two animals learning each other's geography, mapping the distances between bone and skin, the territories where pleasure lives like a secret we're allowed to keep. Maybe love is just this: two people who've agreed to be tender with each other's fragility, who've learned that vulnerability is another name for courage. Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's only sex— that primal conversation where words become useless, where honesty lives in the arch of a back, in the catch of breath, in the silence after. Either way, there is grace here. Either way, we are blessed.
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