my lips have been sealed
months have passed,
days, weeks, without a care, a moment


I have not the courage to speak
nor whisper, for fear
of the wind

upon pages of snow I write
with sinister delight
as the first kiss,
the first break of dawn,
first touch of flesh

my lips are sealed
fingers have ached
I long to touch
every crevice of purity
in passion’s path
every bead of intention

sealed by every letter
I long to break open
lick your wounds

my longing
to speak
of love

utter in breathlessness

make love
I must write

tickle my feathered pen
every cockle of a rooster

if only to touch you

every hemline
every seam
every word

I will not be denied

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