The Flame and the Thread
By LENON
There are moments
when your presence hits me like incense in a still room...
subtle, sweet…
and suddenly everything in me wants to kneel
and undress worship from the silence.
Your skin,
I have not touched.
But I’ve memorized the lines your laughter makes,
the curve of your thought,
the way your peace walks into a room
before your hands do.
And I want you.
Let me not pretend.
I want the smell of your neck pressed against my breath.
I want my hands to know your hips
the way my prayers already do.
I want full access...
the light, the dark, the in-between you.
But I want more than that.
Because see, if I have your body
and lose your trust,
I’ve traded a kingdom
for a candle.
If I take you out of time,
I make a thief of both of us...
not just from God,
but from the sacred garden
we said we'd plant and wait to water.
I’ve seen the kind of love
that finishes fast.
That eats with its hands,
but never stays to wash the dishes.
That unwraps the gift
but leaves before the vows.
I want no part in that.
So I’ll be honest
some nights,
I leave the room,
not because I don’t want you
but because I want you
right....
Other nights I wanna devour ,
flashes of memories
where we explored each other
in delicate freedom
I wanna stay there
But
I want our fire
to be the kind that warms a home...
not one that burns it down.
I want us to feel every flame,
and still choose
the thread.
That holy thread that ties heart to heart
before skin to skin.
So, no....
I will not tame my desire.
I will offer it.
As incense.
As poetry.
As waiting hands.
As a promise
that when the time comes,
I won’t come to take,
but to give.
And give.
And give.
Until your soul and mine
feel like a house God would rest in.
