we reach out again, in darkness.
maybe not in love, but something wilder,
hungrier and less constrained.
a need, both sacred and profane.
as we cleave and clash,
as we tingle and tremble,
our bodies string out in endless throbbing moans.
flushed and fluid with need and quivering release.
panting breaths, heated with desire
heaving rapture in and out of us,
in the cries and sighs and endless shuddering  wails
of passion’s pulsing, universal language.


2 thoughts on “crave

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