T.

T.

Warm curling energy,
the solid heat and strength of who you are,
pours like honey into my spirit.
You could be mistaken for no one else.
I lean in
And move into the touch,
breath you,
open.
Luxuriating in the closeness,
I long for you closer.
You fill
the bowl of my pelvis,
the birdcage of my ribs,
until I echo with the sensation of you.
Up fluid, your hands encircle my neck
fingertips touch the base of my skull.
Stunned I am still,
silent
captured in what you share with me.
You are miles away
and yet
you are here.

You whisper to me
“Ask me for something that you want,
and I will give it to you.”
You offer yourself
with a purity and beauty
that cripples me
and enslaves me to you.
You give who you are
with open hands
rawly brave
and offer so much of what I need
that I am left without words
or ability
to express the depth of what I feel.
I can’t shape into sound what I would ask for.
It is the clean shape of your name rolled into my tongue,
one word held in my hand pressed to my chest over my heart.
When you ask me,
you cannot see my hand unfurl,
my fingers open downward in answer.
You ask like a warrior,
I answer as in prayer
your name my benediction.