Maybe there are words

Maybe there are words, somewhere,
that can explain this bubbling,
overflowing, always rolling ball of
emotions.

Kiss me; like we're stuck in traffic.
Like the stars are watching,
jealous and anticipating.

Take your time with me.
Stop and go,
drive me to the edge of this, insanity,
we call LOVE.

Let me dangle from your heart strings,
long enough to realize yours
are the only arms I want to catch me.

Let me go.
Let me fall into your abyss,
looking long, like Nietzsche,
And yours are the only wishes I could fulfill.

I want to be sacrificed on the altar of your bed,
laid open by this intensity we call sexuality,
reality,
love and inside out clarity.

I want to be inside out,
exposed like bleeding hearts and
cardiac attacks against broken ribs.

Kiss me like mine are the last lips,
speaking bad poetry.
Beatrice and Benedict,
arguing and mouths stopped with kisses.

I want you to WANT me.

Go slow so that I am begging for more,
ravenous and anxious,
going out of my mind,
but finding myself in your mirrors.

And maybe I want you to stop me,
stop my verbal flailing,
my constant navigating through rhymes and reasons,
with a kiss that will stand my hair on end
and melt me down to my basic components.

Kiss me slowly,
as if God were looking the other way
and we don't need him anyway.

Ravage me,
let my desires drip from your tongue,
like honey is the only cum
and we aren't two people having sex,
but we're the last two cellists
baring our skin to play music with our souls
and the notes are tattooed on our fingers
and our lips.

And yours is the only bow to caress my strings,
the only flute to my voice.
The only breath in my lungs,
building up to an explosion.

You're the explosion about to collapse my lungs
with pleading for mercy and begging for more.
You're the scissors about to cut my life short
with verbs and forbidden nouns,
kisses that wrack my body
and leave me a whisper in your heart.

Kiss me to life.
Simply and with nothing to hide.
And I will blossom in the garden of your arms.