This summer
will be made of heat
and your body beneath mine,
the sun jealous
of how you glow
when I’m inside you.

We’ll close the curtains
just to keep the light out,
so we can worship
in shadows,
again and again—
your legs wrapped like vows
around my waist,
your breath
the only gospel I believe in.

We’ll forget the days,
lose count of time,
as my hands relearn you
over and over,
each kiss
a deeper chapter,
each thrust
a return
to something holy.

Your moans
will lace the walls,
salt the air—
and even the moon
will blush
at how often
I make you come
before midnight.

This summer,
love will be the only season.
We’ll live between sweat
and stillness,
between sighs
and the soft shiver
after release.
And then I’ll take you
again.

And again.
And again.