Lingering words wait on love laced breaths,
dripped rich with passion,
swallowed into silence as they yield
to the frantic rush of murmurs
clamoring to be heard over the pulse of drums.

Tenor tipped timbres,
birthed in the forgetfulness of nights ebony curtains,
heave behind bones stretched beyond unquenchable lust,
as lunar hours blanket us in an infinite cycle
of incoherent murmurings surged forth
in mingled scents and senses.

Our only salvation, to cede.
Heartbeats press together,
uttering a soothing awareness
that speaks in tacit tones of kindred need
as warm chuckles play with girlish giggles
and limbs tangle midst drawn desire,
sketching shy whispers to hang on
high pitches or low draped moans.

Words become redundant,
replaced by driving fingertips
perforating tissue resistance
and gladly, we drown,
as ceaseless waves crash
upon rocks and hard places,
our futile battle fought and lost to darkness
to bring us safely home upon hearts buoys
where tongues lay idle and we wait
the softness of slowing breaths.

Love shouts in all its silence,
our only reply,
to sigh.