I earmark his body with my tongue

so I can come back and indulge

in all the different parts of him

that always tell me the same story

Oh, I could read him all day if he’d let me

smell the scent left on his pages by

the ink of my love

and swallow his words as if I needed them

to breathe again.



Comfortable in the haze
and dancing shadows

Blending with colors that don’t yet have a name

And with things that shouldn’t be seen
Nor said;
With his fading scent on my sheets,
The intensity with which I sometimes crave his kiss
the sense of peace that fills me when he’s near

But don’t speak, dear

With that knot in your throat-
If you use your eyes instead of words
Then you’ll really have my heart

Give me syllables,
If you must
But give me real
Give me good
Give me you
And all the rest,
All of it
Or give me nothing-

give me nothing at all.