Crushed

I would rush to you
to bring you flowers
picked from hidden grasses
my hands and bare feet
damp with dew and earth
you would gather me into
your beautiful, cruel
eager hands, seeing me
with hair unbound
and lips that feed the kisses you crave
you would feel the damp ground
and darken my face with the
mud of new rains as darks skin
and moonlight and all hedonistic
sins collide in the taking of me there
under a hunter’s moon
or summer stars
or beneath weeping trees
you have me and it is all there
in the taking
who you are
and what I am
the jungle and the forest
the howling and the storm
the earth and the fire and
an innocence shattered
you fulfill that promise with no regret
but you never notice
Crushed beneath our bodies
are the flowers I picked
Just for you