Our Own Vanishing

You don't realize
the clinking of wine glasses
gives me an achieved orgasm.
Maybe it's time we got connected
beyond these candles.
Show me the honey glaze of desire,
blanketed by an ashen prayer.
We're looping into invisible habitat,
becoming our own vanishing.
Let's make love beneath swing sets,
alter the orbits of our lives.
Avoid the territory of guilt
as we shed clothes.
We did things differently
and like a paintbrush,
we expired completely.