The universes we’ve woven with our written words. Our own little infinity. Maybe someday the venn diagram of our core chakras will merge to become one circle, instead of a mere temporary prismatic dream. Emerald and evergreen, forever.

Harmony and safety within our homes; each other. You are home, to me. To know peace would be to entwine our limbs and feel the stillness and pulsations of our love, synchronized, skin to skin; the deepest drumming noise inside our heads, to match the throb of quickening, wanting heartbeats. Written words remembered and recalled in the real world. The closest we will ever get to telepathy; and magic.

Your sword stems the secret valley and flowing river, whos passage was whispered to you in stillness of our growing love. The river of my want, that flows from the endless place the roots of our two separate oaken trees, entwined and knotted together in the deep and calm of fertile, hospitable soil. Limbs that begin to twist, and grip, and dip deep within the earth, to root together in ancient tones.

Love grows softly, in safety and stillness of kindness and consistency. It will always burn for you. You can feel the heat from the natural spring.

Spread sweetness upon my southern lips, the milk and honey of your divination rod, dowsing the mounds and mountainous forest of my want with thick heat and a plump branch extended from the truck of your sturdiness. To feel you roll, and envelop, and ride the rising tide of the wave of our love, expressed first in imagery and slipping through the sentences woven from our imagination, then in three dimensions. Two beings swelling with heat and heart and passion born from text, played out in tantric theatrics spilled out our in serendipitously seductive dance.