Love poetry

I have all this love;
here, in the palm of my hand,
just jumping about, like an eager seed
pining to be sewn

I imagine you take it;
revel in its idiosyncrasy,
feed it stardust from your dreams,
and blow kisses for luck

You'll wait, and as love starts to sputter
of constellations
and erratic poetry,
you realize it alone is not enough

You want my flesh, my blood, my bones,
to press your fingerprints against the very navel
of my love,
to imprint its core,
you want to make love
instead of merely watching love grow