The Names Of Things

What you did to me when you kissed me,

My heart, you killed me.

You stole my thoughts, you burned my skin, you ripped

The water from my eyes, left the salt on my cheeks

So I would feel your pressure and never forget

Your flavor.

What you took from me when you nibbled my ear,

My joy you tickled from me in distracted bursts of

Laughter and limbs,

Wild dances and slow breaths you teased from me.

From deeper hiding places where I'd forgotten I'd left myself,

You pulled me up and out with your outstretched arms,

Open chest, and the reflection in your eyes that

Dared me to see my own dark mirror,

That I'd pretended didn't mark my soul

Like Abraxas, God, and Eternity.

You are now the ancient hum in the back of my throat,

The vibrations on my teeth and tongue, the music

That whines in pained, glorious harmony against my

Belly and toward my heart, sung in open vowels

And shut lips; if there were words they'd be foreign.

But I'd know they were mine too.

What could I kiss from your lips to bind you to me?

Give me your eyelids and the sensitive skin waiting

Just behind your brows and the fluff at your hairline.

Let me trace your Roman nose with the tips of my fingers,

With my lips, my teeth.  I'll call it Grecian as I worship,

And you'll still know what I mean.

Darling and dear, sweet my dream. Babe and love.

I try to find your name. 

Friend of my heart.  Provocateur.  Protector of my solitude.

There are too many.

My other myself, and everything between. 

You contain them all and they could never contain you.

I try to speak them and you've already slipped beyond.

But how can I stop:

This word play makes you dance, and the dance makes me fall,

And in my fall I lose my voice.

And find my name.

Dear Love.

Dear Me.

Dear Love.