…a silent secret kept locked within a palm of softest, forceful need.
A smiling, adoring kiss of life replaying a death of nearest encounter.
A fantasy of lyrical ballads recited under a tree pregnant with pauses of fruit plump and positioned to plummet to the earth peeling away a layer of preponderance revealing fleshy morsels of darkest craving and covetous yearning.
A sleeping imagery of delicately placed metaphors devouring the bleeding drips of your verses staining my virginal finery as you tear it to shreds leaving the torn slivers of irreparable shameful damage blushing upon the floor where my tiptoes press closer to your magnetic pull of incomparable, licentious requisites.
A soft ear into which you whisper unutterable stipulations as I resist your surresptitious hunger, fooling myself as the hanged man awaiting the welcome death of breath to be ripped from within, comprehending an equitable kiss which would utterly desist all reluctance in a twist of fate.
…a love. True.
…a yearning. Magnified by the far too late spied glimpse of perfection where any interjection is just…not…enough.
Am I your truth…
What am I but an invisible fire, scorching and blazing your pages alight in nights when sleep slips silently southward, exiting the realm of possibility to infinity as I fervently consume with blistering vehemence your demonic possession of choices made but wrongly played and stubbornly stayed within your prepossessing mind and heart from which…I cannot be apart.
…a stimulus. An inspiration driving a force of metrical versification to drip from your fingers as they betray the scent of my need for you, staining their tips with greed for my flesh and heart, laying open and oozing pulsating poesy for your inimitable compositions and odes to submissions of truest ardour and forevermores wrapped in kisses of love filled lips and tongues that dance upon tongues that speak only this truth of mine for you which I can utter ad infinitum… until you know.
A flutter of swarming butterflies laying waste to the inner workings of your centre as you feel my essence enter , invited and moistly delighted to be finally here where I was meant.
…your destruction of reality.
A construction of bestial animality.
A Goddess of infinite desirous actuality.
A pause in the monotony of cacophonous filles de joie clawing their tainted and rejected and utterly whore infected touches of disgust and wretched lust on you.
A kiss of sweetest fated karmic kismet.
A touch of darkest pounding need.
A burning brand of my monogram on your beating heart.
A submission to your
A sole, unrepeatable, rare treasure, with no prior measure within your soul.
A silent, searing predilection.
But more than this…