You were my darkness, voids between explosions
warmth of marbled flesh, blood in crosshaired
wait. Our limbs were floods, a merge of tributaries,
trickled beads on skin our wont. Our canvas finger-
painted, lips on lips. A fragrant greed we were, but
doomed by law as secrecy of hands are traced
in marks of moans. In stains of sheet and striations
fingernailed on buttocks bare. We danced ourselves
insane, we fireworked, but afterwards we sizzled
shame, veneered morality, slipped and said goodbye.
But in my dreams, we are entwined, your hair
cascading on my thighs. We knead the dough
of flesh, and craved we carve anew enchantments
when as nested, corpsed we detonate again.
Today at toads Brendan inspire us to write about the Paramour the sinful lust, the winds, the fire burning… I guess you can call this a free-verse sonnet. I will also link this to Poets United tomorrow morning.