Retrospect

02.04.16

Eyes grow dark
with the desire
that has left us both blinded.
You weave me into embroidery,
wet silk and dream figures
in the wake of your teeth and the
path your hand burns southward
to the sun. You drown me
in the black softness of your hair,
curls damp around my fingers,
nose buried in the holy intersection
of jaw and neck,
mouth hot
on your pulse.
I know things now
that I did not know
only days before:
the moonlight on your silver
skin, lush with sweat,
the angle of your lazy smile, the panther
limbs and farmer’s hands;
every scar on your arms,
wrists to shoulders. I know
these little secrets well
because you taught me. I am
because you made me,
and I will
go where you lead me,
knees sinking to the ground
in worship, lips moving
in prayer
of a kiss.

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