Intrinsic

It's you.

Not what you can do
for me
with me
to me

But the way you
move inside
me,
like a soft breeze
like a hurricane
like pleasure and pain
and things I can't
remember because
under your touch
there isn't anything

there isn't anything
but you

Its the way you
taste in the face of
all that I am
and the way
you devour all
that we aren't

It's the way I'm locked
in awe
trembling,
needful,
skin damp
eyelids heavy
and helpless,
as my fingers
run through the hair
at the back of your head
and with my last
coherent thought
before I’m nothing
but your will,
I realize it’s always been
that way.

It’s you.