Love.
It's four letters sprung from tongue
without provocation,
like how springtime flowers
just follow nature's course.
I've said it every day since.
Said it while peering into your eyes.
The word like a trade wind I hoped would blow away
the heart and soul's torment.
Whispered it into your ear
like an incantation hoping to exorcise
your demons.
Repeated it after every kiss.
As my lips snaked from your elegant neck,
across collar bones
to perfect breasts.
Moaned it
along ribs and hips.
Gasped it
along upper thighs.
Cried it
when my lips kissed
soft, wet folds and delicate hairs.
Choked on it
when I entered you.
Screamed it
when pleasure consumed me.
Now I know
you will be my last thought.
Love, my last word,
as I lie on my dying bed.