Ink Of You

Our eyes ignite, flint struck in night,

a spark climbs up, a wicked light.

Your lips find mine, the world turns small,

a bloom of heat, a shadowed thrall.

Your hands, like silk, glide over me,

unwrapping secrets none can see.

Each kiss a pulse, each whispered breath,

a vow that quivers close to death.

You taste the hollow—slow, divine—

then graze my collar, leave your sign.

I shiver, half-desire, half-glow,

a molten candle bending low.

Fabric falls on steps we tread,

soft casualties of rites we shed.

Your thumb at hip, my arching moon,

a curve to pierce the heat too soon.

Upon the landing, the world suspends,

you lift me close, my body bends.

My legs entwine, the world erased,

this faith, this rite, this sacred space.

We spill through darkness, ache and sin,

shadows move where pulse begins.

Each thrust a psalm we freely claim,

each shiver bows to secret flame.

I drown in ink of you—no seam—

where fever threads the midnight dream.

The night consumes its silver tongue;

let dawn unlace the stars we’ve spun.

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This poem is about desire, hunger, and the heat that can spark between two people. I wrote it thinking about those moments when bodies collide, when passion takes over, and everything else fades away. It’s about seeing someone fully, feeling them without holding back, and losing yourself in that connection. I wanted to capture that raw, electric intensity of being completely present with the one you crave.