Delight…transformation…I remember. The blood pounds love and lust. You’ve opened the beautiful flows of his tenderest spots, his giving spots, so long warped and turned inside. Your lips and touch bring healing. From this fabulous perch on the edge of Shangri-la you see me as the greatest threat—to what? You’re face to face with your lover—not a gunslinger in a western saloon. If his heart is a swinging door, you’ll always be on the edge of a shootout.
He’s winterized those outlying spigots of fascination and re-aimed their spray towards you. Listen to his heart’s tongue. You only know your own jealous blood. You’ve been burned and betrayed before—that shows. So now you would stifle all skin—fine or fiery. But now’s time to trust him and your sleek passion.
Dismiss the fish-breath catty counsel. Love him full—take all the love he’s learned. Old kisses make a rich patina. As you harvest yours, dismiss jealousy and thank the ripened ground.