Divine
Beneath that frame you wear so well,
a sinner or a saint?
A simmering of lust I smell
within your self-restraint.
It won’t be too much longer now;
The hunger’s in your eyes.
I feel it on your fevered brow;
I hear it in your sighs.
You can’t survive my full assault.
You’re losing your facade.
It’s coming down. It’s not my fault.
You’ll see you’ve been a fraud.
For underneath that skin, you burn,
and soon you will be mine.
Before this night is through, you’ll learn
that burning is divine.
For PD's Love Poem Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
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