You will speak to my curves
In a passion language
Three times a day

I shall visit every place that
Engorges your senses before Dawn’s face and
Behind her back

You will make a meal of my flames
While I drink you in desperate pleasure
Harmonized with the chiming of the church bells

I will hold you to my bosom and wrap you in
The warmth of admiration at every strike of lightning
That accompanies the storm

You will possess me through the sustained trembling
Known only by those who find a treasure too highly
Valued to be shared, lost or sold

I shall touch you with such joy that it will be
Confused as despair, because you inspire in me
A tender vulnerability that equally excites and terrifies

You will haunt me through accursed distance, whether
Measured by the nearness of inches or range in miles
All space between our bodies is perdition

I will frustrate your solitary clouds when using our
Skin as moisture, forming and reforming
Tears of release

You shall always be the one for whom time was
Created, and I shall always be the one for whom
Time never ends

This mantra was conceived and consumed for its flavor more than its presentation. It tastes to me like a love I’ve imagined as if already lived. It possesses a hint of singularity not found in similar mantra dishes, and though not vocalized, this is the quality of truth sought by all taste-buds –

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