I took her to bed with silk and song
'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long,
I must prepare my body for passion.'
'O, your body you give, but all else you ration...

There was no world, no land, no god or heaven or earth outside of their two bodies naked and trembling in the act of love.

tell me
of something fiercer
than the love with which
i gaze upon you

of something softer
than the tenderness
with which i hold you.

The season was waning fast
Our nights were growing cold at last
I took her to bed with silk and song,
'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long;
I must prepare my body for passion.'
'O, your body you give, but all else you ration.'
'It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene:
A bleeding nymph to leave me serene...
I have dreams of a trembling wench.'
'You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.'
'Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared;
As our longing for love can never be cured.
Our want is our way and our way is our will,
We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.'
'If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill...
This love, our love, that no one can kill.'
Yet want is my way, and my way is my will,
Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill.

And you look more beautiful when you blush.

it is to be savored like a
seabreeze-whispered

dream...in the mysterious
blue minutes
before dawn

like a secret
infatuation.... like slow
languorous sips

of green tea... like a lingering
glimpse

a self-wrapped
paradise

like his name
upon my lips.