beauty, lust, poetry, sex, women

enough

The warm sweetness of your skin

Sometimes the want makes it

difficult not to tear you away

ravish you until you’re insensible

stretching out each moment

as you tremble beneath my rough hands

gentle in the tender places

a musician’s hand

an artist’s eye

a poet’s tongue

all once the art has been made

at play against your skin

you might tire of my weakness in time,

but the strength which flows through me,

lets you alone at my whim

and when the urge occurs,

i would take you

over and over

until the walls dripped with sweat

and you,

supine and glorious,

beg me enough

enough

enough

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