A WORD ABOUT FLESH…

Rapture holds
passion, not
infidelity.
(You have become
my forsaken
malady).

Ravish me.

The heat (is nearly
crippling).
I’m kissing,
your neck, (when)
my tongue finds the
sharp definition of your
Adam’s apple…Tastes-
so sweet, (and
so wonderful),
beneath the stubble
on (your neck),
your sculpted jaw,
and the other
delectable parts of you.
The salt of
sweat, leaves a hint,
in my mouth. Testosterone,
magnetic pheromones,
(fill up my sinuses,
head, and my throat).
And this divinity, almost
makes me forget, about
the pleasure I feel, every time
you move your hips.

Ravish me,
baby.

And slippery high moments,
that pale me-(just).
Pierce me.
Impale me, again and again.
It’s the flesh in my body, and
the ice in my soul.

fin