the process

I was hot and bothered

The heat from your words poured into my fingertips

And I found myself sitting on the floor, begging for words to reach you,

To reach and to find release

Your word savored

I skimmed them this time, so I would be sure it was your skin in my hand, your black sturdy spine between my fingertips,

How I could drink you for days, my eyes forever thirsty

I absorb you into me

I come pouring, raging, on fire..

Tonight we will burn these sheets into scriptures,

scriptures of truth..


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s