The Love Letter of a Delerious Man

I want you to know you exist as my animal mate and how truly savage that love is.  
I want you to watch a video of the mating ritual of eagles and then dive out of the tallest tree with me.
I want to roll in tree sap that never comes off and causes us to stick to one another 
inseparably, the incipient amber fusing our skins and our bodies into one big gem.  
I want to find you wet and make you wetter, to chew you and be chewed by you. 
I want us to struggle as if we were taffy, to be molded, stretched, broken, rejoined.  
I want to wring you out.  
I want to suck the water that is in the towel you dry yourself with to sustain me in the desert.  
I want you to know how much I adore you, and I want you to enjoy being so adored, from your brain to your toes.
I want to make children with you, even if we chose not to, I want to honor that I want to.  
I want to sit inside your mind and be visited by me there. 
To lift you on my shoulders and twirl you around like a little girl laughing and fall down together with you, the world spinning in a jumble.  
To protect you from everything, even me.  
To shed my ambivalence, then my skin, then my flesh; then be the bones you build your house with.  
To lay down with you, and rise up with you, and fly off with you, and sink to the bottom with you.
I want to change the world with you.
I want you to scream, “Enough, I cannot take any more, it is too intense.”  And I want you to mean it.  
I want to be somewhere where no one knows us, or knows we are there; then I want to ask you to leave me, then I want to fall down on my knees and beg you not to.  
I want to bury my head inside your flesh and cry.
To separate your labia and lick them, first inside on the right, then the left, and then slowly and deeply down the middle, your fingernails, pressed hard into the flat of my back, moaning in sensual agony.  
I want you to say whatever is inspired in you to say and know it is received by me as a symphony.  
I want you to put my face in between your hands and squeeze me until I am your face, and then I want to squeeze you hard enough to get myself back.  
I want you to tremble, verily tremble, before the mighty power of what we share, barely understanding.  
Then I want you to see the fierce possessive eternity you are reflected in the teardrop you evoke.  
Then just say, I love you, to me in your native tongue.  
Then say my name. 
Then put your head down on the pillow, complete, safe, eager to sleep, eager to be cuddled with, eager to rise again.
Know that I give to you the best and only that I have.
Know that I give to you until I can no longer rise up beside you, no longer rise up inside you.  
May it warm you, and heal you, and bring you great joy.
And may we wear it well together.