I was already unfolding 
before your hand took mine,
and we had so many questions
about words that only soulmates
should impart through the mist
when knowing there has to be
so much more to you.

I was already moving through you by then,
that already belonged to us and us alone.

And I was noting how every freckle and mark
were living constellations connecting your skin,
a celestial map that's always been glowing there,
just waiting to be touched and named,
to graze against some bare nucleus of creation.

To know what lies beneath your silence,
beneath a collected dark history
before I am folding and unfolded,
moving through a body as radiant stars
that guard like ancient sentinels aglow
within an unstoppable inferno,
only streaming with motion near the end
before silently tearing along the sky.

I was already lost against the roar,
the thunder in your chest by then,
and while I don't know what can hold 
the bare core of anything together.

I know there is this.

The white-hot rush of moving through you,
any moment where I've been tongue-tied,
folding and unfolding with you,
just waiting to be touched and named
when knowing there's so much more to you.

And remembering that even though we may
demand more than what can be given,
that our silence afterwards won't know
the difference between a vow and a pact
and such private tender acts are fleeting.

I was already moving through you by then.

That will belong to us and us alone.