The Taste Is Bittersweet

I have been unfaithful, under a curtain of night even as you laid a fingers breath from my hem, he stole my affection in sheared moments of Ecstasy ~~~ We came together an eclectic mix, liquid methane and fire, once we had merged our passion ignited after the flames died down, I took out a staff of creation combining oceans of words with waves baring the muniments to love, in a age of stars nestled in black petals and in the prayer rolls of galaxies, my letters of adoration shimmer you can use a finger and trace the path of my desires through night mouths of dark and light kissed, soft and gentle, to a fevered fumbling making poems slide out between a tongue of your breath and my lips, I create my own beginnings, until the end is whispers I ask for no Taj Mahal or crown of Sheba, what use have I for a thousand ships hulls busting agape with ardor, I only yearn to taste the first syllable that flows from the tip of your tongue my lust twirls dream-catchers and yet I crave the rush of methane, my lust sparks to mark the darkness with shooting streams of love ~~~ Neruda whispers to me of scents loosed on the float of lemon flowers, his rest begun in a the soft valley of my heart, and he knew not how, or when or from where but from the other side he found a way to my heart timing the tide, his words now rest under my tongue and are savored with passion, I am reduced, again and again all this? is only in my mind