Saying nothing
No words to intrude
in this moment
that only we understand.
No--
please baby,
love you,
can I have more.
No-- none of that
will do you see.
He knows this body
inside out---the curves
and smoothness
and pleasure
zones.
His tongue is a breeze
whispered on my skin.
His hands--- feathers
that tickle and stroke.
These hands
fragment and brush
me shallow with sin.
My sin is a lover
that loves me inside
and out.
A love that
consumes
without
a doubt.
If bridges were
a cross to my soul
my man has roamed here
generously
without
saying a word.
