Through the landscape
you navigate your way to
my secret garden;
follow the sound of my voice,
follow my silhouette as
I guide you to your desire.
Take my hand,
hold my heart.
Take my soul,
& allow yourself to be lead
into temptation -
taste the forbidden fruit,
without remorse.
You changed the geography.
You changed the course to
the valley & your arrival gives pleasure -
a welcomed lover to a sacred place.
Embrace this time that we
will briefly share;
an interlude of passion -
before our love is set free
to explore the next taboo affair.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Guilty Pleasure
Like my favorite sweet -
I melt into you - a dish of all things forbidden.
The sound of your voice,
the look in your eyes,
& the feel of your touch
sends me into a frenzied rush for more
& more.
You are my guilty pleasure;
something I know I cannot nor should not have.
But I secretly crave your touch
& hands.
We indulge in our desires
as we indulge in each other.
To satisfy this hunger;
I explore your body,
regardless of the costs
& potential for destruction.
I am uncontrolled when left
without you and only my imagination.
Nights not yet spent;
will we find each other,
& discover each other,
& devour each other?
Will my guilt slip away
as you infiltrate my mind?
I am staggering;
drunken with excitement
of seeing you,
of tasting you.
How long will we stage the scene
before we commit to the act?
Feed me.
The poet is hungry for you.
I melt into you - a dish of all things forbidden.
The sound of your voice,
the look in your eyes,
& the feel of your touch
sends me into a frenzied rush for more
& more.
You are my guilty pleasure;
something I know I cannot nor should not have.
But I secretly crave your touch
& hands.
We indulge in our desires
as we indulge in each other.
To satisfy this hunger;
I explore your body,
regardless of the costs
& potential for destruction.
I am uncontrolled when left
without you and only my imagination.
Nights not yet spent;
will we find each other,
& discover each other,
& devour each other?
Will my guilt slip away
as you infiltrate my mind?
I am staggering;
drunken with excitement
of seeing you,
of tasting you.
How long will we stage the scene
before we commit to the act?
Feed me.
The poet is hungry for you.
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