Whispering To Thee
Be thou wet and seasoned,
for we are richly mulled
int the wine of quiet passions.
Catch my breath
in your hungry mouth,
bleed into my veins
as purple as wine.
I want you under and over
my wanting hand,
like a white dove
fluttering
with featherlight desires,
those needs
of the eternal flame
that will not
depart
my beating,
or un-beating heart,
nor ever wither.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
