In a perfect world  
I would adore you
without guilt.
I would call you
trembling.  
I would ****** you
with poems,
eyes, hands, lips,
a famished tongue.
loud as lightening,
I would cry out
all the names
of your hidden lusts,
perfect them
and hand them to you,
day after day
until you are
a bundle of
potential *******,
throbbing
and burning for
my touch
to make you
shudder and scream.