"Love isn't the work of the tender and the gentle;
Love is the work of wrestlers. *
The moon laughed and her breath
bestowed us with a holy drunkenness
that flowed between the lines of our lovemaking,
breaking each others' wings and swallowing the
bitter sweetness of it, we tasted the gauze of love;
your sweetness on me, by bitterness on you.
I pin you down, smudge your fuzzy mirror and
we become clearer, trading echoes and kisses
wet with hidden knowledge now made known
Your fairy tale hands rejoice in my body and
deep into my soul, rearrange all that I used to be.
* Intellect is a Shackle , Rumi *