my insides burn
upon the gradual unveiling of want,
its rough religion
which sought to recite itself
as a monologue
knowing that strength is depleted.
swiftly glance and thumb through
like a manuscript,
touch me in places unnameable
aroused by the thought of corrupting
I have never been so conscious of my own body
in my own clothes.
align your soul,
align your raring senses
you have set me on will make you redefine urge,
its erotic fragments.
I want to seize your throat
and pin you hard against the wall,
trace my tongue
and kiss along the edge of collarbone
until you give in
and thrust your manliness into my flower zone.
is the colour of candour
that rushes to greet my flesh
mine is the fire that conquers lust
sootiness of debauchery until its effect
has worn out.
To the bemused corner of bearded lips
and plant a kiss,
knowing I had awoken something pure
inside of you that will never sleep again.
Photo credits: My Pretty Pink Flower by Jindra Noewi
For Anmol’s Guest Prompt 🙂
Posted for ‘Poetics’ @ dVerse Poets Pub