I believe
in the wine-taste of your lips,
the scotch on your tongue.
I believe
in the burn behind your eyes.
I believe
in the fire of your touch,
the way the muscles of your back and shoulders work
beneath your skin when you move.
I believe
in the screaming ache under your voice,
the soft white noise of questions unasked,
of pleas unanswered.
I believe in you,
and the precious need of your love,
and all the facets of it
as yet unknown.
Creed
