my philtrum

we are staring at one another, wrapped in a bleak light 

you have freckles in your pupils and all I can think of is that 

right now

if my head were to suddenly lose all ability to hold itself up 

it would stay directly inside your hands 

there would be no fall, snap, break, or ache 

that these hands and bitten fingernails cupped around flushed cheeks are holding onto me

with everything they have 

like a priest gripping a goblet full of red love poured out for us 

you are steady and sure of your position 

what you offer is good 

holy 

pure

and lovely 

your thumbs play my eyelashes into a violin and the worship begins 

and instantaneously 

everything is moving 

so purposefully 

the smoke ashes quiver in its presence 

we are moving higher

and I am shaking

you are taking communion from my tongue 

sucking up every last drop 

and between the twirling of flesh and saliva

you are speaking to me with the pace of your breath

saying that I am something you have needed for some time now

a sacrifice

you are something I will need from this moment on 

my own internal war and future 

funeral 

the violin sounds out as a new melody begins to take form

your index finger traces the slide between my nose and mouth 

and I learn this is my philtrum 

you say this specific part of my face

is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen

peeking through smile and cheek

the room encloses our bodies, quiets and stills

I hear our breaths laughing together as one

bouncing off the walls

and tickling one another 

rejoicing in the simplistic sacred silence 

of a sacred moment 

the thud in my heart thickens and swells 

increases and decreases with the wiggle of your finger across my mouth 

and onto my front teeth, passing my lower lip and chest and chin and breast 

and I am shaking

but this second has already passed through the deadly hole of time 

an unfortunate chasm of love and loss and lust 

and like adam and eve 

we both suddenly see 

that we are naked and utterly hopeless