Niagara Falls

Image: National Geographic

It flows dripping inside the drops; your body a river. How deeply it rushes in and I swim, learned to breathe there inside the depths of you that I might go longer, travel farther inside the vastness of your tunnel. My heart beats, a guide through the moon between your two worlds housing treasures. When you open wide I see the light glisten. I see the place of my entering, the place where the caress of my mind awakens your senses. You love the way I talk to you, how I read you pages from books that disrobe your soul and turn you completely inside out. Estás buena. I love how you desire to be seen, and how you see so profoundly the mystery of my movement through time and space. I’ve touched the whet of you. Your appetite satiated only by lips pressed against your mouth agape mid-sentence for the words. They come calling and I speak them to you. You inhaled them the moment the tip of my tongue felt your nature and exhaled into me the vibration of shiver. How dark the cherries. How ripe the fruit of your soul, mi Negrita Bella. My spirit has known no other in this way. There is but a single key tossed at the bottom of the place where truth falls and the water gathers. I dive always to the core that I might gain access and live there in the warmth of your body’s heat.

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