With tender tongue he moulded the words
Softly whistle up, up to the leaves
Moan from the small dodecahedron, deep down
Where chuckles and frowns frame the corner of his mouth.
Ho! Are his eyes flashing warnings?
Heed the man who sat his life in Gods palm
Reeling at the multitude of mothers,
With their hands around his neck
All their red nails
Form a rock in my gut
Skin to skin, shins akin, we walk.
Our souls watch from above
As dragons and griffins prowled around us
With the weather as it is, his cheek was twice as cold, as he watched the sea.
Eloise 
I like this one,
Maybe tighten up the last line, we go from
Intimacy to soul intimacy to a sort of weather report.
Also did you want watch and prowl or watched and prowled?
I wonder about the title, because there already seems to be an established intimacy here – it also doesn’t seem to be about a meeting, but about some kind of enigma or mystery between the boy and the girl. I believe the first line could be broken down a little. Everything moves too quickly. There’s too much compression that doesn’t make sense sometimes – the deep down words and moans, that seem to come from the corners of his mouth. I love the whole mood and I love the surrealism, but when I look closely at the parts and get to the end of the poem, I wonder if this isn’t really a longer poem that is being compressed into something too short to carry the full intention of the poem. Of course poetry is compressed language, but I want to know about those hands around his neck.
Really strongly suggesting you revisit the last line of this one