Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Saturday, March 06, 2004

The Whispering

Trace with your fingers
the length of my body
head to toe,
then back again.
Taste me as I'm tasting
your warmth on my lips.
Take this need and
make me weak,
obliterate rational
thought in the complete
way that you do.
If you feed on my hunger
now, I will no longer
feel the ache so deep,
emptiness will no longer
make it's home there,
there will be no fear,
only the lightness of
a gentle touch returning
to you with the whispering
of your name.

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