Let me

sit in the shadows

at the edge

of the clearing


as I watch your passions burn.

Master the art

to moan and smile,  

in the pleasure

of loving and giving.

Like a dying moth,

quench your thirst

that burning desire,

that has been raging

in that bottomless depth.    

As love resonates

from my warm chest,  

clothes rattle  

dry between the legs,  

as we fuel the fire,  

burning ourselves

alongwith a portion  

of the night.  

Darkness creeps  

towards the dying fire  

the wind encircles,  

our dancing hearts.  

Love enters in

like an unseen wave,  

the beat softens  

on the log  

that shall never miss  

a hot breath.  

Entwined and weaved  

as we witness the magic  

of those vague fairytales


of nights long ago  

when thunder rumbles

out far below.  

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