Before we finally sleep,
Let me tell you of our song.
Dark, melodic, all vibrant rhythms, blue notes.
Atonal music from a primitive era
Written in time subtly perfect,
Conveived in meter recalling perfect emotion.
Inspired collaborators, you and I
Composing personal thymes in bold script.
Within the timeless joys of our love,
You clasp my stylus into your well of harmony.
Probing deeply I am confined
In a carefully structured love sonnet.
You offer me ecstasy
in smooth well stretched papyrus.
unbound in the mobility of sheer creation.
And we write the most ardent of flesh poems.
Further we create the most fleshy of tone poems.
And we make the most powerful of love poems.
In the final flourish
we fuse creativity with free form.
Anarchy spews froth,
a liquid stream of consciousness.
The flow of our art
overtakes our bodies in crescendo
As the final couplet is hastily scrawled
in messy completion.
You leave me inspired, exhausted,
Sticky with my loving consent.
I leave you wet with my signature.
The making of our song.