Concerns

The words that have not yet been said
Are almost as sweet as what has been whispered,
Between the promise of tenderness
And the deliverance of pure ecstasy
Lies the untainted ocean of intimidating agony.
Which beach do you lie on,
And on which border do you lay your head?
Are you also swimming in a thousand words
Left unsaid, un-whispered, un-thought?
There's the promise of Heaven between
My parting lips, and with every breath
That you moan I can bring you closer to home,
Closer to everything you never have known...
But the Hell inside my crumbling bones
Makes me weary of placing you on a throne
Based on lust and on crashing waves of our trust,
There's concern that the price for your ticket to Heaven
Is the much worked on friendship between us.