My body aches in the places that
crave your touch,
Fingers brush, face is flushed.
Insatiable want is torturous,
Makes me feel almost virtuous;
Guilty for feeling passion's rush
Curiosity is crushed by a pious clutch.
Lick your way past the path of lust,
Make me curl up, make me gush
About emotions mistaken for love
Like a butterfly that's really a moth;
I'm getting lost in the flame
Of your smoldering tongue.
Unwillingly, I gravitate
Flickering to sate. I shall burn.
Waste away, into ash I turn
Nothing conceived
Nothing born.
Unappeased
Sentiments scourge.
These insatiable demons
Mourn, and it hurts.
-SLuR
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
My body aches in the places that
crave your touch,
Fingers brush, face is flushed.
Insatiable want is torturous,
Makes me feel almost virtuous;
Guilty for feeling passion's rush
Curiosity is crushed by a pious clutch.
Lick your way past the path of lust,
Make me curl up, make me gush
About emotions mistaken for love
Like a butterfly that's really a moth;
I'm getting lost in the flame
Of your smoldering tongue.
Unwillingly, I gravitate
Flickering to sate. I shall burn.
Waste away, into ash I turn
Nothing conceived
Nothing born.
Unappeased
Sentiments scourge.
These insatiable demons
Mourn, and it hurts.
-SLuR
