My Love: I. You Are The Taste Of Flowers

my love,

you are the taste of flowers, the scent of rain and sun when the wind finds you and binds your lips to mine.

your eyes stitched to the gentle touch of my hand as i tangle my limbs in the history of your hair.  the gold of your skin swallows the sun and through your eyes stars part as dark broiling clouds with jagged slashes of silver fill the pool of your hips and the shock of thunder pounds my body with the tides of you being.

your mouth takes me as the aurora of earth and days clings to the hope of hands that in the silents remembers the burning suns of your skin as the heat of morning rises from you shimmering in the air as the world emerges from you. you convulse and push forth the day. your hands gather in the streams of air and slivers of water, and bind my bones to you with the kiss of your skin and the lips of your voice.

my love, the escaped gold of your body finds the hard curve of the moon and with limbs liquid and smooth you sift the night into me as the fingers of your lust captures stars. your rising heat bundles your silver breasts to lay upon my willing tongue

the trembling hope of your thighs mouth the darkness from me and i spill the milky heavens across you, and the full moon claims you with willing breasts as the tremble of your lips seeks to find redemption and rest in the shadows of my mouth.