Burning

His lascivious, lust-filled
Gaze is the color of

An oncoming storm.

He loves me

His breath, hot and heavy,
Is like a whirlwind of carnal need

And leaves me damp.

He loves me not

His hands so rough and ready,
Birth Goosebumps upon my skin,

Like hot water over cool breasts.

He loves me

His lips how they whisper,
Promises like entwined limbs weak,

From long nights.

He loves me not

He chases the shivers running up
The fine curve of my canvas with,

The consuming flame that—

He loves me

Grows with every kiss and caress,
His aching desire against mine,

This night, my morals melt—

He loves me not

Until there is nothing else left but hunger,
The burn of bourbon and slick skin,

Soft and firm—

He loves me

Drawn out over eager bodies,
Controlled by lubricious longings,

Stretching and straining—

He loves me not

As we stroke this flame,
So deep inside,

Between us,

Again,

Gasping for air,

And again,

Begging,

And again,

Moaning,

And again…

Screaming…

Lord

Have

Mercy!

And I am lost.

What if he loves me?

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3 thoughts on “Burning

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