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So the night has eyes, to see the beauty inside
Upon a fortress, we rise.
To listen to the sighs of the wild — whispers — standing in the dark.
The sadness inside cast adrift; behold JOY!
This gemstone we touch: the flesh made real.
We rose and ascended to the high — to dwell amongst the summits that pierce the clouds.
Did I taste the flesh and drink the secretion that tasted of wine — prized from the vine fermented and aged. The taste that piqued the senses: peppery, rounded and bold — an experience that twists us in coils of rapture, ecstasy and bliss, Poised, to your lips — mine. To taste the colour purple. The sweet saliva flows.
Your mouth, I thus enveloped with my tongue, to drink.
Oh, the ecstasy, to taste the raw flesh of another, the lichen, the moss, the fleshy fungi, nestling on the damp forest floor — the petrichor besieges the hunger.
Your skin, my tongue did map the texture and felt the cold,
the scent lingers, the perfume, the ecstasy and intoxication prolonged.
Incantations to the flesh, we did bathed in each other’s desires, the pressure released.
