To the Moon is a collection of poems thrown at the Moon and back. Again and again, unconditionally.
Your silhouette falls in my mouth

Your silhouette falls in my mouth
Repeatedly
I could not speak, in pleasure

You compel me to rise and fall
To be lost and found

In your quivering hands
You confuse the bones out of me
I look for myself in the rush
And fainting ebb
Of your sighs
That I find myself in your soul

As tonight, I love you with kisses
Smoothly etched
Between the sheets
Of your being.
I will open you, petal by petal
I will open you, petal by petal
Slowly, amidst exchanging breaths
Feel my fingers send ripples down your skin
Tracing constellations made of desires, erupting
>Watch me surrender my soul To every inch of your splendor
While I examine the pages of your body
Soft, glowing, and infinite
Every pore, every curve
Nothing will be left untouched

Feel how my lips write my devotions on your naked self
The blunt confessions of a soul, in lust with divinity
And make your body tremble
With your already trembling lips
For I will eat you down, until your words falter
Until your sighs learn to pray

And beneath the curious moon and the shy burning stars
I will look straight into your eyes
Bask in every expression you make
As I stretch you open, with my hard wicked body
Digging into you -- slowly, passionately
And without mercy

While love, that strange mysterious love, melts
Into our sweat
Then I will hold you, pull you, closer, closest
Oh, my most sacred -- now gasping, relished
Yet we still need
To inhale each other

With tears in our eyes, we turn our soft murmurs
Into deafening moans
Moans that conjure the Soul of God
(Because the holiest moans can only come
From two imperfect souls, meshed
In prayer)

And then nothing -- nothing but ecstatic bliss
And the desire to be enlightened
Shall be
No more

For nothing will remain
But the combined scent of two souls
One shared breath, and a dreamless sleep

For once, let me show your body
What it really means
To be touched:

Like a moth, caressed
By fire.