Her Lips Tremble For The Love Of Fuck

Her lips tremble for the love of “fuck”

Flesh expecting a well-worn leather kiss

Oval lips begging for hell… until it finally starts

Snapping sounds summoning screeching seraphim hymns

Our amorous curse pulverizes their wings

And after one killing, another begins

The first of many little deaths

Faraway galaxies gambol in the dead of the night

No sorrows were awakened

Eon-long and distant constellations aligned with your joyous relief

Whispered with the chill of an early October frost

A yearning that travels as my desperations move it

Like the tenacious nature of a train with a hundred destinations

Moving and passing every station

She lusts for the libation

The rain of a rapture that floods the streets to a chorus of weeping

But it’s not the composition of the crestfallen, it’s a perennial prayer

An ardent antiphon, a fervent veneration

A song of faith and devotion

She was dressed and made up in such a way that you *almost* wanted to avoid touching her and just sit and stare.

Appreciate her, admire her, longingly gaze at her…

Almost.

Making my way within clouds of untamed clover

Like a padlock hanging open, I’ve disappeared through your gate

Your every need, perceived though never spoken

Mournful wails, a flaming partition, you speak only in consonants

Unleashing your breath upon a breeze

It lingers then soars with a roar

Engulfed in deep and distant tides

Your restless thighs flood me with a keepsake