White Sunday 90: erotics

we are prisoners of
an existential love
desires melting in the afterglow.
passions flashing red
an immolating bed
I dream of you, impaled, on satin snow.

I want to touch the heat
that makes you feel complete
I want to enter you and center you.
in every way you dare
in every way you care
to trust me with your lust, so true.

and when it all is done
we have just begun
to explore new erotics in our lives.
for I will not complete
my taste of you, my sweet,
until from me, my life, the darkness drives.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.