to your burning disdain

I do not know the full story behind this work, but I am not sure I want to.

to your burning disdain

your hair drawn aside.
your smooth
warm
flesh charms me.
disarms me.
and I am drawn in
to contemplate sin
to be laid as offering,
to the curve of your shoulders.
to the taste of your sweat.
to the sound of your breathing.
to the pain of regret.
if I left here, this moment,
having not played my hand,
having not made my case,
having not made my stand,
on this field of forgottens
that will soon fade away
in the whim of the moments
in the light of the day.
as I dream of your kisses
and the touch of your thighs
and the soul you are losing
behind half-shuttered eyes.
as I trace your desires
with fingertip dares
and the feel of my breath
on your soft shining hairs
that bend back from my tasting
the essence you strain
to keep buried in challenge
to your burning disdain.

and when all is turned silent
by the echoes faded far
I will lay down beside you
to affirm who we are.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.