Sooner or later,
Every curse is a prayer...
And I've never been one much for praying,
But I'd love to make you my religion tonight.
May we consummate this union
Until our voices grow hoarse
And our bodies ache.
The night air will be heavy
With our exhortation
As our passions ignite,
Enough to fuel a pyre for our loneliness.
I'll make you my communion wine,
I want to drink you so deeply
And sing your praises to the heavens.
I will sacrifice myself at your altar,
The lamb to your wolf -
Feast on me
Until I cry out in supplication.
Only God knows how I love you...
A fallen angel will regain his wings
And for a moment,
Love makes us soar.
-
Author:
SerenWise (
Offline) - Published: April 5th, 2019 10:16
- Category: Love
- Views: 36
Offline)
Comments3
A steamy few lines of sensual metaphor which sets this reader's fancy alive with the ways love can make us soar. Great read Seren.
If not, then may you consummate this union soon - for I know, like you said, it will be a memory forever.
To be enthralled with such intensity,, even Gods will have to bless it.
Wonderful sensual write SW.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.