...we are made more than naked
let words be my trembling hands,
and silence, the hush between each breath I take from you.
Let me undress you not with haste,
but with reverence,
peeling back the petals of your longing
one slow, golden whisper at a time.
Let us begin with lips,
where the world narrows to a fevered hush,
my mouth trembling on the verge of yours:
I gather the dew of your sighs,
taste the wine-dark nectar of parting,
our lips moving in secret conversation…
a tide and a shore colliding, again and again.
My tongue traces the velvet dance
where sweetness unfolds…
I steal and return your wetness,
drinking deeply from the cup of your mouth,
each kiss a yielding, a promise,
a universe unraveling upon the tip of your tongue.
Your collarbone a crescent moon,
a shoreline for my lips to wander.
Let kisses be falling stars traced along
the delicate map of your skin,
each constellation a secret—a promise…
written in the ink of my breath.
Your shoulders, twin foothills in dawn’s gentle mist,
beckon to the pilgrim in me:
let my mouth worship the curve of your horizon,
let desire bloom there, soft as wild jasmine.
Your arms, wrapped in twilight,
are branches I long to climb;
let me nest within the hollow of your embrace,
my kisses the rain nourishing the earth
of your gentle surrender.
The slope of your back
an endless poem,
spine a thread of silk weaving
the story of every heartbeat
I want to claim with my tongue.
Beneath your skin, rivers of pulse shimmer,
and I would follow their current,
naming each freckle, each sigh,
with the devotion of a wanderer longing for home.
Let my lips wander over your chest…
where breath rises and wanes in moonlit tides,
each exhale curving your breasts upward,
hillocks veiled in trembling anticipation;
I watch their ascent—a slow harvest of desire…
soft mounds swelling with each gasp,
the dusk of longing flickering
in the rhythm of your heaving grace.
Your body, a landscape fevered and fragrant…
pearls of nerve beneath the surface,
quivering for the heat of my mouth,
for the slow, molten press of yearning.
Let me sip from the chalice of your secrets,
let kisses worship where your breath shatters softly,
where only the purest night could dwell.
Yet deeper—past the skin and shiver,
where the body gives way to the heart’s wild orchard.
Let me undress you there, piece by unspoken piece:
lay open your orchard of fears and wishes,
let me caress each bruise and blossom,
tending to every hidden ache
with the healing hush of unhurried love.
Show me the core where you cradle
all the sunlight and sorrow,
where your soul lifts its unguarded face
toward the rain of my longing…
and let me, at last, press into that sacred ache
with the balm of tenderness,
the wonder of two spirits stripping away
all that is not true.
Let my mouth be both question and answer,
my kiss—an ember kept burning,
calling you deeper, deeper,
until we are no longer clothed
in anything but wonder…
until, pulse by pulse,
we are made more than naked:
we are revealed,
soul-flushed and trembling in the wild heart of the night