Storm
My love
I will not ask you
to be a pigeon or a dove
cooing your pleasures away
in our liquid moments of love.
I will not ask you to be tender
or to be a timid voice,
suspended in song.
If you must be anything, my Eve
please be thunder,
and shake the foundation of our union
with the audacity of your desire.
Unleash a cry from within
with a purity that vibrates glass.
Do not let your touch become ordinary
like words uttered without meaning or intent.
Do not be
a sapphire sky filled with birds in flight.
If you choose to be anything, my love,
let it be lightning.
Yes, be lightning,
and write your name across my chest
in fluorescent text.
Show me what it means
to be electrocuted by your nails.
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