James Stinson

Le Petit Mort

The little death is yours my love

If you will just be mine

Upon a grassy bank perhaps

Our fevered limbs entwined

A thousand kisses will l give

My fingers probing deep

There you will give your heart to me

No secrets will you keep

Your eyes closed tight and fingers clenched

Your head thrown back in pleasure

While perfumed sweat will let us glide

As you await your treasure

A sigh a cry your nails dig deep

You gasp one final breath

Then slowly sink beneath the waves

To meet your little death