abyss

salt-mouthed, eyes pouring
but he's sure he's not crying
he's sure there was nothing
but the sound of his singing.
he makes his heart sing
he brings things to fruition
in his soul-deep cavernous
the closeness is hazardous
to the health of their minds
but they persist, coexist
with each other, they've kissed
a hundred thousand times
and it's never enough for him,
or for him. he writes poems
like hymns for him. his back teeth
ache from need, from the greed
he feels when he sees his skin.
his fingertips shout obscene
sweet nothings to his ready cheek.
he falls further into an abyss
filled with kisses and bliss.