A Real Love Poem that Burns

Love Poem

I have never made love,

No holy doves were moving too…

It was just panting and me and you.

I could laugh at what I once thought

Was meaningful.

But, now I want the pearls nestled

In the heart of the rising rose’s

Tender flesh to be pierced

Only by the tattoo of a blessed

Swordsman, so that every petal

Is curved, lifted apart, and remains

Unbroken.

That kind of tenderness will be a

Requirement from now on.

To touch is not to feel

To feel is to fill

But not to fill a hole

But an ache, to strike

My heart while caressing

This lissome, silken flesh.

No more hands, sir.

Only souls can breathe this air

Between each kiss.

Leonard Cohen and Jeff Buckley‘s “Hallelujah” playing

over and over.

I have never made love.

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