wherein i cheat (but only because i'd rather kiss than blog) by posting a poem written three years ago

WITHOUT WORDS

at a safe distance, where
the having of you is a discourse
of bodies not minds and my weaponry
of words is silenced. sometimes
i like the silence of sex-
ual slants as they dance
overhead, begging us
to breathe them in and sometimes
i like that our hands
do the talking, walking
us through. it’s easier
with eyes closed to be flesh-
to-flesh, mouth-to-mouth with
the taste of you on my
tongue and my breath on
your lips, your hands
on my hips. sometimes i like
to be speechless. and, of course,
i like the next-to-me
of you.