Intension

At three in the morning, a back massage turned erotic
And breathing made erratic
Informs you that she is right
And the tight tension you have been holding cries to be broken
And the only thing left is to kiss her to see what it’s like.

At three in the morning it becomes clear
You must stop trusting old wisdoms
Of will and waiting
And bend to old instinct as knowing more about the world
Then you could ever pretend to touch

And when she and her body say different things
You can listen
And pluck at the tension between them and ask questions
Until the entrails tear from the belly with the soft separation of almost skin,
And you realize you have to die to be seen again.

At three in the morning you learn to surrender
And accept that this is enough.
That whatever comes is the lesson you yearned for
And even if it is not the perfection you wanted
It is the stone that takes you there.

The beautiful thing about tension
Is that when it breaks it is replaced
You worry that the tapestry will unravel
If you do not carry the strings
Not realizing that you are a harp,
And if one string snaps we begin again one octave down.