In the night I wake and gaze upon the the lines our body creates..
The gentle curve of your lips the roll of your hips…
As I dream of the places they’ve been.
The subtle sighs and and shaking thighs….
As the salt of your body drips from my lips..
La petite mort over and over as the sun slips away
and our friend the moon guides my hands across
the landscape before me…
Each valley explored each hill climbed and hundred times.
The wet of your want mixed with the length of my
desire a perfect match indeed.
A compliment of passions designed only at heavens gate
this fallen angel has found his way home….