There is always a push and pull between us,
the gravitational shifts caused by desire,
the flinching triggered through our needs,
I understand the cycle as well as you do.

Love was once a chain to you,
a final link snapped to
strand you with inhibitions,
with each bond held together
by a cold and damaged clasp.

There was blood on my hands, too,
a heart robed in fiction once
the dark closed around me
to let someone find what they need.

Each touch was a mere blink,
the eye of a storm never breaking,
I want to know so much more
when I unearth you.

Whatever sweeps through us,
whatever you do to me,
don't let go yet.

Because you never tasted it before in a kiss,
the surge beyond such hungry lips,
never knew how much one being
could entirely occupy another.

How bodies can be like seasons,
each one unearthing the depths we've hidden.

There will be a push and pull between us,
flinching away at times as a reflex
echoing from older cycles,
but I understand the cold gravity
that once almost crushed you.

Love doesn't need to be a chain
built with frail links that inhibitions snap,
or stained with the blood on our hands.

Those hands can find you in the dark
and reach the places where you've ached,
where you long for the eye of a storm
to finally swell inside you.

Each caress is a unique season,
an anticipatory chill preceding winter,
the thaw unearthing where I will explore you.

The calm breeze of spring in our breath,
summer's heat surging along and beyond
slick delicate lips below,
autumn's cool aftermath of a world stripped bare

When you finally discover how much
one being can occupy another.

Whatever sweeps through us,
whatever you do to me,
don't let go yet.