words of love

I don’t believe in words of love,
for these may flow more from above,
as rivers run when rains have reached the ground.
Who knows the thought inside the heart,
and who can see into the night,
where terror and betrayals are all found.

Desire that would soon consume,
or violate, stretch out and loom,
and woven into patterns of the mind.
And these, unspoken, have their way,
to blind, by trusting in the day,
and rights are left the little that they find.

And any mouth can sooth and cool,
to calm an anger, or a fool,
and other times, our needs might overflow.
Then we might speak in spite and rants,
ashamed of all our fears and wants,
and so conceal the deep love that we know.

But there, right there, our flesh in flight,
and listened with, and in plain sight,
ah, here we cannot hide our love at all.
For then the soul is on display,
the essence is revealed in play,
as naked as we were before the fall.

Then show me all your wonders wide,
the places that you run and hide,
and all your worst, the blackest places shine.
Your thighs all wet and short of breath,
for these are where gods are best,
the fires where perversity is fine.

Dark love endures, the shadow sings,
the coarse, a gift on angels wings,
the urgent spoken roughly as a prayer.
Invite, and in surrender true,
to know myself, by loving you,
and with the gods, all tangled in our share.

So I will trust a heavy cock
and glisten cunt, and you unlock,
your body roused by tender tweaks design.
Your scent, that when it fills the air,
my eyes will see, my heart will hear,
and I believe that love is God and mine.