It’s a sin, you know it is,
I know it too every time our eyes meet,
every time we touch hands or lay down
to have a coffee in pleasure’s covenant.
Every time we pray to hold on to that moment forever,
moaning indiscernible thoughts that only we can hear,
grunting, panting, we caress the dark abyss
of sinful unmistakeable delight.
Nirvana, so tactile in its abstract nature,
we can touch it, feel its energies pulsing through our veins,
racing up and down
between the tip of our feet and the crown of our cortex,
Your piece of raw flesh infusing my fingers
with a sensory overload,
my body trembling in powerless agony
against your onslaught of sensation.
It’s a sin, you know it is,
to hell and back I’ll go and take you with me
on this wild ride to feel the smoldering fire of your lips
burning me from the inside out.
And should we never return
from amongst the searing flames,
I know the chilling warmth of your loving gaze
would make me feel right at home.