The Note And The Rose

Close enough to fold you
deep into my waiting arms,
hold you inside aching lungs,
you’re becoming proof
that I don’t need eyes to see.

There’s a sight beneath all sense,
a signal traveling in every pulse.

And I fold with you like a note,
body a map of countless creases,
carbon imprints scribbled a history
before you began to write.

Before telling your own story,
you carefully traced every line,
followed rivers where ink bled
but could never be washed away.

You’re more like an intricate rose,
a cultivar of indefinable beauty,
the soft texture of petals opened,
any slight change in the air only
draws your efflorescence closer.

Close enough to unfold you,
seek a swollen slick bud
coaxed by a silky smooth head
throbbing against a hidden paradise.

Your palms trail along me,
reading a map of dark secrets,
imprinted into living carbon
forever exposed by your glow.

You’re becoming proof
that we absorb beyond sense,
something traveling between
lovers that cannot be named,
a ferocious need that will smother
the longer it remains unanswered.

And you read me like an unfolded note,
treasuring creases I once kept hidden,
rivers made by bleeding ink for you
to write a new history upon.

You’re more like an intricate rose
and I’m close enough to unfold you,
press deep between drenched petals
coaxed open by a silky smooth tip.

You’re becoming proof that two join
in ways our eyes can’t capture,
close enough to feel the expanding universe,
a soul exploding and folding into yours.


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