Last night, the sultry moon came, dropping her
diaphanous gown like an over zealous Jezebel,
wanderlust, impatient to lie above and beneath me,
eavesdropping on the hum of my pulse.
With an earnest attempt at the prize,
her savvy fingers splayed the knot of my undress;
I met her with closed eyes as lust slow danced upon my skin.
She came spilling instigating verbs full of anticipation,
lighting fires within my verve… in candlelight’s swoon.
She was fluid in motion, robust as wine with hunger in her eyes
enslaving me within her sexual vigor.
Morning stole provocation from her embrace
when she rose as the sun flexed his arms
laying claim to her shine.
Still this ache is braced beneath the touch of my hand;
I‘m but a junkie in need of a fix.