You wanted the words to haunt you,
to give you something to hold on to,
but I say it all in secrets,
our own codes in the skin because
the most careful intricacies between
lovers often remain unseen

In the damp dark long after 
this course of fire has ran,
has left us to smolder,
it has to mark beneath
the flesh to mean something.

So you could still hold on to me while
the grips of another's fever pushes inside,
answers and ravages all that you ache for.

So don't tell me where 
I end or where you begin,
we've never been able to tell.

And I don't know if you can feel it then,
the ways I'd trace you when it's over,
when you're surrounded later 
in the afterglow of another unique heat.

Maybe the patterns drawn upon
your skin then are too familiar
to bring you back to me,
to make you whole. 

And you would exhale in that moment,
your own breath like a singular flare
to only light the world for seconds,
suddenly flickering across a body
that would be a stranger to me
but a waking universe to you.

A beauty I'm not permitted to
understand or be a part of
because it may cut too deep,
but I sense the tenderness
that must exist there for you.

And even while knowing this,
you have urged me to speak
after sensing such affection
hovering not quite like a secret
but a whisper that is escaping
from the safe womb of a dream.

You wanted the words to haunt you,
give you something to hold on to,
to describe it all now without a code
because you've handed over everything.

Tell me how our bodies spill here together,
legs over legs and arms over arms
like crossed livewires meeting,
almost humming with the currents beneath.

Tell me how after our lips press for so long
that you are left raw with love
long after nerves have reached supernova
and rainbows burst in our eyes.

Tell me you hold this long after 
a piece of you has been claimed within,
and tell me how the soft lamplight
illuminates these trembling frames
but can't compare to our unseen afterglow,
proving that the most delicate intricacies
between lovers often remain invisible.

And I don't know if you feel it then.

Maybe the telling would cut too deep,
maybe it would be too familiar
to make you want to keep me,
but it has to mark beneath
the flesh to mean something.

But you still want the words to haunt you,
to give you something to still hold on to. 

So don't tell me where 
I end or where you begin,
we'll never been able to tell.