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
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
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.
over and over.
I have never made love.