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Softcore

Let me devour your lips
It twill not hurt, they are but
Ripe grapes
Fills my mouth with sour sweet pleasure
That I Hate to love

Soft crimson wine spilt slowly from
Your neck and down
Down
 Down
Over your breasts, caresses your
Ribs and drips among your thighs

Please
Stay awhile dear, dear
Hands of Infinite jest, which find no place
Afar off to wonder.

Fingertips etch
Your curves. A south summer wind
Warms the skin, rouses
The harbor of your envy

With bitter lust do I wish to
Wrap the world into a ball of
Complete and enchanting passions

Teeth and tongue
Catches your neck and slips across
Your collarbone, flowing past hills
Of peaches to find the gateway to

Life

Is it so strange?
Do not deny those thoughts of
Moist grass, wet, and glistening by the moon

Unpeeled oranges in the summer sun
Squeeze and the juice, the pulp sweet but
Bitter, rolls in the sheets of your mouth, runs
Like sweat over your skin, stabs crowning thorns of

Lust

That which you hate to love.

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