They weren’t ever supposed to be
More than those three words…

I love you

They were supposed to remain hidden,
Buried in the secrets of our skin,
Camouflaged by the furtive touches,
Safely shielded
Behind the depth of our stare.

But they bubbled to the surface,
Penetrated every other time they had been said
In some platonic peck of affection,
And they weren’t just spoken,
They spilled from your lips
Like they had weight,
A gravity pulling and tearing at me,
Taking with it any chance I had.

I felt them warm against my cheek
Like morning sun,
A rousing flush of zeal as I realized
I was yours.

I watched as you sliced off a piece of yourself
And gave it to me,
Like crushed strawberries in the palm of your hand.

The whole night became an offering.

We had just finished making love,
Our bodies all hungry tongues and ragged breath,
Passion still clung to the air,
Spirited orgasms and pungent sex
Staining the mood around us.

I turned myself over to you,
One of the greatest acts of surrender
I will ever know.

And you took me with teeth and fingernails
Scorching touch marking me in crimson
Owning every inch of my flesh
As if the discovery, for us both, was new.

And when we were finished
When each of us could take no more
Our bodies bruised, our minds aching
Satiated and worn to a point the satisfaction
Made us feel lazy, contented...

You opened;
As a petal blooming to the misty rain
Releasing your inner essence
Quelling any static of the past
Pouring yourself into my lap
Like a spilled glass of chardonnay,

Vulnerably, almost apologetically
In the hush of the moment,
You found those words.

Just three syllables.

Three syllables that would draw the breath
Of past lovers from my throat.

Three of the simplest,
Most foundationally complex syllables
I will ever hear
From your tongue to my ear, coalesced
And I will carry them with me
Every second of whatever time I have left.

Sealed, whole, complete

A significance now materializing our relationship,
Manifesting in all the little pieces
Which between us transcend
The passion against which we are powerless
The acquiescence of our souls to the resistance of the wind
The freeing of expectations
The shedding of our skin.

Words that meant more than liberation.
Love is you,
The only one to whom I long to give.