The Things You Spoke with Passion

I fill my mouth with words, for hunger, thirst,
and love. When whispers dance from lip to lip,
our rolling tongues competing to come first
to wit’s conclusion, letting manners slip,
I love you, when you throw the flue to speak
of what ignites your fire, stokes your soul,
what pumps your heat and pressure to its peak,
and, steaming, forces you to lose control!
Speak only of the topics that obsess,
that possess you. Spit fire or say no
word–none at all. Your beauty, I confess
won’t linger in my mind’s eye should you go.
When we’ve adjourned, I’ve carried what you’ve said,
those words with life enough to raise the dead!