Primitive

The air you breathe
is miles away from me,
like those eyes of yours
where I want to be.

Your hands and your lips
I want to trace with my fingers,
to leave you with my touch
like your scent that lingers.

You think it's just romance,
this fire that I'm pulled to start?
The connect I feel is ancient,
more raw than love, sweetheart.

It was there, wasn't it?
before we ever met each-other,
we felt it in full moon nights
pulling at our heart strings together.