It is far too long

since I’ve tasted lust

and passion.

Let me breathe

your curves and

taste your thighs.

Softly

then sharply.

Remind my lips

of the sweetness of

Your sweat.

As we lay

together

vulnerable and

honest.

Our bodies

contorting in

ecstasy.

Euphoric and

connected.

I’ll whisper

secrets

in your ears

and you’ll

trust me

with your tongue.

Let’s forget

our names

and exist

forever

in that moment.

Paint

my back

with your

scratches.

Tease out

the blood

with your nails.

Let my lips

draw a masterpiece.

Let my words

compose

a song

and we’ll

end

together

breathless

intoxicated

delirious

in

a

final

violent

crescendo.

we explored one another,
similar to that of how the seven sins
would explore their vices,
corrupting their virtues.

but that's what made the garden blossom,
grow with intense passion that radiated
with a melancholy glimmer, with a dipped
and ragged vine of sweat and sheen
arousal and desire.

  craving, begging, mewling, whining;

gluttony, craving for the excess
sloth, craving for moments of rest,
envy, craving for a bearing of arousal,
lust, craving for a touch, a sinful taste;
greed, craving the moans and swatches,
wrath, craving for sullen destruction,
pride, craving for the fall of a bereaved apology.


    our garden;
a place of virtues, a place of our vices.
you showed me the deepest things,
darkest epithets of what was to be explored,
blossoming a crimson rose of pure desire
in the pit of my abdomen, vines of thorns
wrapped firmly around my hips
and the soft ashen flesh of my wrists
soon to be accompanied around
the thin circumference of my ankles.
the shark divots soon finding their
way around the swells of my breast,
and the tremble of my inner thighs;
body arching, lips quivering,
ecstacy of your words,
your seed planted garden that
became a part of me.


I found the cardinal sins in
the dropping countenance
of your words, of your demands, and of your wishes,
and i bathed in it,
soaked myself up in the lavender of
your scent, the scratchiness of your thorns.

our garden was the place to cast our sins,
delve into them, and it ruined me,
but oh how I solely craved it.

our encounters, our actions, our experiences
putting even the seven deadly sins to same,
forcing them to turn when catching a glimpse
of us. The swells of their cheeks blossoming
with that of a rose tinted hue.

Twenty years in the fast lane, speeding
was ecstacy at the time.
Sweet heady bubbles of coke,
buzzing at feeding.
No softeners added, lemon or lime.
My therapy, my medication.

******, my mind on a long vacation.
Knowing this time would
one day arrive.
My restless legs, my tired insides.
My not so central nervous system,
twitching fingers, flickering eyes.
This to me is no surprise.
My therapy, now my reprise.

Peotyr by aKydee.