By B. Forrester
On scented sheets of rose we lie,
in the ambience candlelight provides,
The passion of the night sublime,
our entangled limbs collide.
A hungry midnight snack; kisses trailed across a body.
A neck, a chest, a back; a fire within embodied.
Words spring from my mouth, spurred on by Calliope;
a kind of love-struck poetry; eloquent and smutty.
Silky satin linen, slides beneath our skin,
I dreamt of this, the moment when,
we fall, and lust becomes our sin,
your body; my own opium den.
On the horizon morning breaks,
And soon enough the world will wake,
so we lie, entwined, and sated,
our bodies incapacitated.