Scorched remains of lust…

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I am the scorched
remains of his lust,
desire eternally touched,
perfectly balanced,
need masterfully taught
sin purposefully sought,
I am the scarlet hue,
delicately scented rose
I am the deadly thorns
I am the gentle
ebbing oceans calm
I am his raging storm.
I am the craving,
he is my fix
fueling our fires
In lustrous desire.

Indeed I am the
salted mist of
the sea
The vengeful sting
of the worker bee.
Pretorian-esque when
I buzz about,
A sensual approach
as I mount.
Like a mouse in
a sticky trap,
she squirms to escape
my lustful wrath.
Covering her in
my adore,
Cursing her with
bliss forevermore

We are the
scorched remains
of lust, fires
burning
souls yearning
naked abandonement
imprinting upon
primal senses

Love cries when
desires’ applied like
masculine fingers
around a supple neck.
Like fingers in
so much hair. . .like
us taking lusts’
dare.

Karen Hayward & Loc Thiese ©2018

Image ©Karen Hayward 2018

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