It’s wrong, perhaps, wrong to tease
that passion to the surface,
to call it forth with fierce presence
to antagonise it into existence
Primal perhaps, to crave it’s taste
to thirst to drink its essence
to swallow it’s substance
to hunger for its touch
adrenalin fuelled and defiant
carnal need spilling across
rational thought staining
my lust into him, tattooing
my desire into his fingers
as piercing eyes devour
pale skin and lips move to
utter the last words of restraint
slipping them into my waiting
mouth. Wrong, perhaps.
To tease out that adrenalin
with the simplicity of differing
views, to quench passions
voice in soul curling kisses
that reach deep within the
sacral chakra radiating
in explosive waves of need
Empowering, tantalising
to hold that power, for a
moment, till senses regained
and energy diverted
passion bleeding out
across forgotten thoughts
and I am pinned beneath
him, seed of energy
claiming yin with
in the primal screams
of a carnal battle of ecstasy.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

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