In bed buried underneath

Your kinetic architecture

I feel our distinctions dissolve.

Your pulse, a baptism

For which I nightly undress,

How can a virgin be pure

Having never known

A love like this?


Wherever the heart exists

There is art.

I ply my trade in your flesh,

A magician of sorts.

Your bones whine

As cumbersome pipes.

There is a universe

Within each of us

A constellation of mirrors,

Your eyes abduct

As much as they reveal.


You are the aether within

My beckoning crux.

I will swallow you whole,

I will thread my contagion

Into your libido,

I will recite the sublimations

Of your eternal limerance.

Nothing synthetic parallels

The heat of a genuine fire.