The road to love ends, not with nudity,
But nakedness; we
think flesh is the goal
And believe that, when others let us see
Uncovered body
parts, we know their soul.
But how can someone’s soul be subject to
Time? —Gravity? —A
diet? When my hands
Reach out to touch the flesh that houses you,
They stroke not
soul but what your soul commands:
The pretty body you were born into,
The flesh for
which my flesh feels low desires.
But what ignites me when I look at you
Is not the oven’s
beauty, but the fire’s—
Beauty that
burns in your most precious part—
What my soul
burns to see: your naked heart.
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