The parched night-blooming cereus
aches for la lune’s silvery caress,
the same as I ache for the words
etched in secret codes on your tongue.

There’s a nightly symphony in your touch;
chamber music inspired by the hints
of heavy crimson within your lips;
velvet petals spreading before a rapture...

How I long to crush them to mine
with a sweet, savage brutality!
How I long to hear the angelic aria
of your moan.