Commitment to your lips, your sighs, your beauty. Rolled together beneath the trail of my lips. Searching, seeking for the response to my touch. My kiss. My carnal attack upon your body, your soul. I search the skies for answers to why the horizons feel like they are collapsing my world. The endless questions shoot across the black space leaving me the same whys to unfulfilled answers. Unfulfilled lust that my lips demand from your presence. Your silky softness, the rise and lowering of breaths escaping the moans that are triggered from my search to adjust the volume, the intensity of the beginning to our enjoyment within each other’s arms.
The scars of past lovers start to itch below the skin. Healing has begun as your whispers clot the bleeding. Stitch the broken pieces to my heart. Is it the new love, the renewed passion or is it you? You who crawls inside the wound. Not salt. Not pain but an ointment to cure the cuts, the bruises inflicted by the nonreversible decisions in my life. Decisions that for the moment were made in the stream of time, the now, in the moment of lustful pleasures and electric feelings. The commitment to relieve the torture of being alone, the loneliness. The prayers that went unanswered the weights carried on my back.
For now I rest my laurels upon your flesh. The sweetness of your flesh attracting me to another snap decision or the fate that you suck from my soul. Drinking my blood, my commitment to you, to your undeniable thirst for me. For my instant gratification or my misery to fall back into the fear of a lonely room without windows, without hope, without the nourishment of light. Shadows that creep into your dreams, your thoughts, that stir jealous misconceptions, that stir you to scare away all those that want to open a shade, open the sashes to the winds that blow life into my lungs, my soul, my words.
Do you hear the voices in the breeze that strip me naked and create the shivers that pulse my heart to accept your kisses, your commitment? Or is that you reassuring me that those painful days of crying, screaming are subdued into another avenue, another bridge to leap from into the stream of this unconsciousness?