Imaginary lines never meant to be crossed,
Into distant, uninhabited worlds,
As darkness surrounds us, and the silence
Only briefly interrupted by your sounds of love,
Spurs me on into the forbidden, or the frowned upon.
In that strange land, where only lovers exist,
We remain foreigners, unless
I am kissing all of your spine,
Unless you are whispering a pleasure
Understood from ancient times,
A pleasure sacred since the ancient times,
As my fingers run through your hair
Until exhausted, we collapse
Back into reality.
