… and we are alone,
our breath intermingling
as clouds of ice and storm,
gathering overhead.
Rain threatens to
cleanse us
but we prefer this
sinful state of ecstacy
over the foolish blessings
of a lost civilization.

 I tell you that I love you
and you are upon me again,
showering me in kisses
that go beyond skin –
this is my communion
and if I could choose
to stay here
then I would.
I would…