It blurs edges and swallows the
day, climbing inside the pores of
skin. It begins with an image as
sweet as sugar and erotic as grapes,
lending darker thoughts in the
hours of ache.
Lust is salty air and wide ocean
which leaves one longing for the
quietest moments, as chastity
long-preserved crumbles to dust.
It’s a thing of blood and heeds not
to the affections of heart.
It’s rough religion strips one of ease,
as night commences with cicadas
singing in the trees. Lust is a fruit
that lures and debauches the body
Photo credits: Pinterest
Posted for ‘Poems in April’ @ Real Toads
Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United