parallaxis

often

when i believe you love me the banal explodes

and all i can think of then is your tongue deep on me

and i feel it where i sit, every time, like now.

and i closely feel your mouth love me as much as your heart

loves me, and the thought, the mere thought of how you love me

and how much you want to please me (because you do

i see you do) makes me convulse endlessly for you,

over and over until my heart wants to die with it

but it starts with your love; your love makes our love

come true. and me. it makes me come true. far away. 

i'll bet anything you did not expect me to say this