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.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2023
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