The Dark Language

The dark language our bodies have learned
may not survive beyond this night,
this whirlwind of feral flesh, 
maybe that is the way we need it. 

You will ask if we are more
than a body ceaselessly penetrated,
more than lustful vessels writhing.

This is where the very soul is pierced,
the vague entity that tells us this 
is some connective tissue that we 
are not meant to understand.

We are lucky to touch
even for a little while.

I only remember this when it is over,
when you are still shuddering in arms
and exhaling my name in a sweet song
as explosive bliss is slowly ebbing away.

I only remember that there is a fluidity here
too powerful between us to make this a coincidence.

The dark language our bodies have learned
may not survive beyond this translation,
this whirlwind of feral flesh,
maybe that is the way we need it.

I will ask if we are more 
than a body mercilessly explored,
more than atoms and stars bursting.

This is where the very core is pierced,
the vague magnetic pull that whispers
this is some connective tissue between us
that we are not meant to fully understand.

I only realize this when it is over,
when my essence has spilled inside
and I exhale your name in a sweet song
before an explosive bliss ebbs away.

I only remember that there is a power here
too human to be marked as mere coincidence.

I only know we are lucky to touch 
even for a little while. 

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