I will write you poetry
in the journal on my nightstand
that you will never read.
But you will feel the words
as I trace them with my fingertips
along the curves of your neck
and the lines of your body
I have yet to discover.
You will feel
the passion I write with
a I press it firmly into your lips
with mine
and draw inspiration
from your breath
and you will come to know
the soft fondness
that lust becomes
when you see the depths and fathoms
of devotion in my eyes,
and it finally feels
like home to you.