picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/375909900128906809/ |
In the sun or under the moon, I care not what graces the
skies
when my hands relish the heat of your burning skin,
before me a sculpture of muscle, flexed and primed
for me to move across the spectrum of senses with,
to find the slow, deep release of the energy
that keeps me alive and takes my breath
so I may die… again.
A real passionate one, and filled with vividness. Warm greetings!
ReplyDeleteIn the throes of passion, oh yes!
ReplyDeleteDie from pleasure I hope.
ReplyDeleteGood job on this. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteWell represented the many deaths born of passion's release.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! Such passion!
ReplyDeleteOh WOW ‼️
ReplyDeleteLovely, passionate poem. Thanks for visiting my blog and chatting awhile! :-)
ReplyDelete