by Kyra Wooden
This is how we make love
Consuming love
Handfuls of pulled hair
Skin like a still lake
That ripples at his touch
Instinctual and passionate
Aching limbs from sharp love
On my knees
More bruised
Than a kneeling beggar
An insatiable desire
I am all lace
He is all raw
His hands, before,
On other bodies
Was gentle and hesitant
But now –
He is as open as his mouth,
An animal baring his teeth
He leaves purplish bites
On my coppered flesh
Creating a painting of love
My neck falls
In his strong fingers
Possessively gripping
Corseting my breath
Airless cries of pleasure
Unfiltered moans
Naked sounds
Sounds of addiction
Sounds of sheer worship
Like a hymn so resounding
That apostles envy our devotion
That the lawless crave our lust
Our reverence
For love this genuine
Can only be imagined
By the most lawless of men
Or the most chaste of women
