I do not need to command you,
the words never leave lips
to map the way you glide
your hot tongue along
my quivering length.

Darkness senses darkness, after all,
and words need not shape us here,
the tactics of rendering you still,
as if I can only drink beauty in
as you patiently wait for adoration...

I do not need such strategy
to make you suddenly yield,
dripping with a need to be filled,
to be marked from the inside.

I know there's an exchange
of true power here, though,
the trust in handing over
so much more than a body.

But only your name makes me
truly submit for the moment,
remember the way I ache
in ways too ravenous to voice.

It takes me all the way back
to the first time desire clawed
like the most unforgiving animal,
the most violent unseen crest
of a wave finally breaking,
and I never returned to
my skin quite the same.

But I do not need to command you,
the words never leave lips
to steer the moment you guide
me into your tight slick sex.

Heat senses heat, after all,
and words need not say more,
the dialect exchanged has long since
shaped the stillness being broken.

I do not need language then,
what can be said when I already
feel the endless humming in our veins
or be uttered to overshadow being
buried within you to the root?

I know there is an exchange here,
a vow more powerful as we
hand over something between
our very bodies and souls.

I do not need a nebulous alias
to tell me where you're marked,
where you have branded me,
remind you who you belong to
or where submission truly lies.

It takes us all the way back
to the very first time desire
clawed away collected history,
and we could never return
to our skin the same again.