more than simple lust

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too far away to touch, as such,
and so I must reach to you with words
you've never heard spoken as token
of something more than simple lust.

not that my desire for you, the fire true
to our natures, is not a powerful pull
in bringing me to this moment and place,
but there is more to it than loins and groins
and the waking dreams of me, inside you,
driven to an exquisite madness by the skin
of your legs, wrapped about me to draw me
deeper into the well of your pleasure.

too far away to touch, as such,
and so I must reach to you with words
you've never heard spoken as token
of something more than simple lust.

for there is more to you than the swerving curves
that beg a man's hands explore forevermore
trapped in the wonder of your exquisite form,
warm and alive, thriving on the moments' madness
that burns you with our yearnings, churning
us to a feast of release made flesh from fantasy,
your hands touching me to tell me things
that you are beyond words for, urgent urgings.

too far away to touch, as such,
and so I must reach to you with words
you've never heard spoken as token
of something more than simple lust.

there is the light of your genius, the soul that rolls
out to the edge of the universe, a satin runner
that I would put off my shoes to tread upon, sacred
to my sense of the truth of God revealed in you
and the words you not only inspire, but speak
as you seek to understand the dimensions of life
in a world that curves away at the horizon, forever
just beyond your reach, that I would explore with you.

too far away to touch, as such,
and so I must reach to you with words
you've never heard spoken as token
of something more than simple lust.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.