We don’t talk cause kissing is our language, with eye contact, we ease into conversation

tongues glide, I flip

exchanging melodies with our lips

He breathes into me, my engines boil

he plants seeds,

in my soil

his drip is so loyal, only rising to my occasion

his hands divine,

massaging the sides of my face, and

he provides, a certain kind…

of freedom, a certain kind of love