We shape the universe with our breath
The intensity of an exhale
Betraying the emotions beneath
The rhythm turning and casting moods
Like the moon culling the weather
Through the alteration of ocean currents
The drawing of your breath is my summons
Inside your lungs I become your voice
The nature of these conversations
Divined through the warmth we possess
=
Who speaks of a heart’s character anymore?
These days, dating is about credentials
A market of exhausted flesh
Love has become a dance between
Predator and prey, a war cry
It’s more a matter of conquest
Than intimacy and sentiment
=
Artists are the last true romantics
The only ones who can stand in a ring of fire
Consumed by ecstasy and flourish
Given to obsession they devour
Heart’s like paper and few can endure
The gravity of such fierce devotion
=
Making love reminds me of Paris
The city being a product of art
It is the heart of sensuality
And under a Parisian sun we all burn
Hotter in an air of decadence
The city of the Tower breeds liaisons
Like silk neck ties, its all a matter of fashion
=
Depravity is an addiction and the dirt
Underneath your fingernails is contagious
Still I have your breath, the secrets of you
Conveyed in shaky whispers and I am glad
I am not in the thief’s den, cradling a glass
In an effort to suppress a cheap affair
Or to generate interest in a prospective one
You reinvent me with your words
Create beauty where I find only ugliness
And I have never known love, like you have shown me
=
You inside my flame, consume in equal measures
Perhaps we will be destroyed, inseparable, unrecognizable
But we will have loved in every moment of shared existence
I don’t need to recapture the youth I never knew
The sticky entanglements that only deepen loneliness
I am complete because I have grown, inside of you
=
(Something romantic)