your love is the fire

my heart is the embers
charred, left behind, but glowing after your touch

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i know all love ends the same
i just want to know
how you will break my heart

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Canvas of slug driving naked into mist under moonlight sunk with soft buttocks kissing the shameless air in my balcony. Of plight and fright suffice to say I always choose the bloody itch between sunken slopes of innocence inked thighs scavenged by thirsty wolves setting up a camp fire to burn them like the cold dagger I glide against her brimming neck- increments of sweat and blood. Dancing butterfly too quick to stutter too quick to spasm at my will.

There I stood lament, satisfied, a deviant rush climbing atop from a stretched navel to my head. Soon euphoria fills my eyes and I hum as lavender in cold breeze rubbing in musk of warmth- demons sliding down as shiny trickles from the blade- lavishly they coax the charm of the night with my kiss to the feather laying in silk one last goodbye.

My Father used to say,
"There is no accounting for tastes."
Some people might think
That I've completely lost my tastes?
I'm into all sorts of things
That I didn't have a taste for in the Past.....
Melancholic Sufi Music from Uzbekistan
And Nude Photos of Strong  Black Women.
Spiritual and Erotic Dimensions
That agree with my current state of mind.
Would my tastes today
Conform with the Critics Choice?
Probably not,
Especially when combined!
However, it must  be
What's best for me
To move on to
The next step in life.

Lead me not into temptation of thee,
taunt me not with memory of thy desire,
tease me not with thy seduction of lust,
for thou hast cast a sex spell I admire.

Come hither, bring the grail of thy body,
take me as thy man and mark me,
cast thy symbol 'cross my naked skin,
submit to thy urge and smile at me darkly.

Cut deep, wield thy passion with honour,
thy tongue my ardour to bring alive,
thou employ wicked witchy womens ways
and I see Need deep within thine eyes.

Come hither, bring the paragon of thy want,
give nymph chance to thy beating soul,
shatter me softly with thy perfumes,
take thy fill of love and sagely lose control.

© Pagan Paul (11/11/17)

Anthea Nov 7

He’s sweet
I bite into him and feel the juices pool in my throat
He’s bitter
His aftertaste
The sting of rejection lingers in my mouth

I’ve always been addicted to grapefruit
Its natural tang much like melancholy
Much like the nightshade of my heart
I bite off more than I can chew
I live for contradiction
And it’s addiction to love

Grapefruit is a woman
A woman who feels too deeply
A woman who is sweet and sour
The woman I’ll never be
I can only consume
I ate too much

Grapefruit is the man I love
Sweet and bitter
The sting of rejection lingers in his mouth
Give me more
I’m still addicted

her erotic smile,
brushed softly below his belt,
needs to be on guard!

I'm not a moral compass
I can't say what's right
I can say that what i want to do
Is definitely wrong
And i want it to last
As long as i can
I want you to be satisfied
With red marks on your back and ass
And pleasure induced tears in your eyes
My inexperience i aim to please
I hope i can fulfill your needs...
And i can't accomplish that I'll at least have done the Deed

-Neroamee Alucard

I’m waiting for you.
I don’t know why
You are delaying this encounter?
You are intimidated
By me?

This poem was influenced by this photo by Kjetil Barane on 500px.
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