I've sinned, again.
Done the thing sworn never to do, again.
Waiting for just the right moment of madness
to inaugurate the newest fall from grace.
Digging, clawing, unearthing
every treasure once buried with the prescience,
the knowledge that I would return, again
to bring them back to light.
Hands scrape back the dirt and mud
of insignificancies, panning for the gold
that lies waiting, tempting and elusive words
that shine, wickedly, for me alone.
Eureka! Frantic now, I smear alluvial words of passion
across my legs, pack quicksand of love against
my heart. I paint words of promise in clay along every
inch of skin, abrade my mouth with the sand of rough kisses.
Weak and spent. I'm down and dirty, again.
Hands smooth over ravaged terrain and I sit,
seeking absolution from the primordial sin
of loving you, again.