Cartesian Coordinates

Discarding uncertainty,
I base all that is
upon sense of you;
should even skeptical dreams
closely mimic reality.  

Perhaps, to stroke,
muscles-back
might reveal truth?
Kissing sides,
arc of spine,
nipples brushing
curve of ass, pendulum
in motion.  

Maybe answers lie
within teeth marks,
against shoulder,
tiny white indents
destined to fade
along origin line.

Possibly your existence
(beneath) proves
that we are real, a
mathematical equation
of one-plus-one
resulting in absolutes.

Pleasure, absolutely
to please
with each movement,
each gesture, along
individual coordinates of naked
flesh, bared indefinitely.

If then, this is true:
do not deny me happiness
in knowing God,
for I ache to see
just how omnipotent
we might be.