I feel it like the heat on a hot summer's day. Overwhelming, sticky sweet and impossible to consider feeling anything other than the all-consuming intensity of love.

It's like broad brush strokes of tar all over my soul, so that you're there, inseparable from my whole self, least it tear me apart.

It just is. Just there, like something so integral to my being that it has become whole hearted, as implicit as breathing, living, being.

I pull back all of the layers.
the bravado,
the talk,
the words.
Everything.

Stripped back
bare,
- red raw -
pared down,
to what is innate,
what I know to be true.

And you.
Your name-
written in to me, 
over and over.
Written on my body,
naked of pretence,
your letters are etched in to my soul.