Notes About The Poem
Seven Deadly Sins Series (Lust)
Fevered Grace
The air grows thick with want, a sweet and heavy shroud,
As primal needs escape the clamor of the crowd.
I feel a tremor deep within my bone and skin,
A wicked hunger where all reason wears too thin.
My thoughts, a tangled mess of what could be,
What’s done.
A fevered race to reach the rising of the sun,
Your lips, a whispered lure that pulls me from my place,
To lose myself within the rapture of your grace.
A potent madness takes its hold, and reason fades,
And all that matters is the game our bodies play.
The world recedes, a blur of motion, lost and past,
Until this fire is but an ash that can't be cast.
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