I know the power blooming 
inside just a single whisper.

The dangers awaiting beneath 
the valleys of your skin,
where handing over a heart and body 
have become one and the same.

And I never quite say your name, 
I breathe and exhale it, 
the letters of your identity 
forever joined with mine.

When I'm alone in the night, 
you become an incantation, 
a hushed prayer against the circling darkness, 
a sound caressing every particle of air, 
as if releasing you invokes a talisman.

If my shape took on other forms, 
you would still be with me, 
a carefully patterned mosaic carved from 
sacred stones or etched into blessed glass panes.

I know the force blooming
inside just a single syllable.

The dangers awaiting beneath 
the world in your hands,
where giving over a heart and body 
have become one and the same.

And I never quite say your name, 
I breathe and clutch it, 
any other proximity to your identity 
would never be close enough to me.

When the sky has swallowed each star,
you become luminescent, 
a prayer against the demons waiting, 
the sound painting atmospheres, 
as if invoking you harnesses 
a universe's raw essence.

If my form turned shapeless, 
you would still be soldered to me,
carefully joined to every particle in the air,
every towering monument and sleeping relic.

I know your name blooming 
from my parting lips can reach 
far beneath the valleys of your skin, 
where we have become one and the same.