No warmth resides unloved.
When your fingers gently
trace the curve of my chest
rising and falling with each
shallow breath, playfully caressing,
I laugh and lace my fingers
through your silken hair
hanging most resplendent
across my cheek, my shoulder.
My eyes closed, I can feel
the approach of your mouth
lingering oh so softly slyly
just above my needful flesh,
ever playful and promising,
the moist touch of your lips
the barest hint of your tongue
teasing the flush into my skin.
Without looking, I can see
the whispered wonder
of your breasts pressed
against my arm reclining,
divining enigmas enough
in the heat of your body
bearing beautifully down
over mine in what was slumber.
Awaken, awaken, Love—arise
like the sun, like the moon
in darkness and in light
in blessed panting perpetuity,
for I, beggar that I am,
need nothing more than this
moment of blood coursing
flesh adorning adoration.
For no warmth resides unloved.