Of Gilded Lips Bared To Me

02 Jan

O’, how now, but soft,
with lips as sweet as wine,
she does but sway
my tongue to speak her name;
that I have oft spoke
freely in my dreams, divine;
that I have spilled
all sins of flesh upon her form,
and for the constant
devotion of her flesh to mine.

O’, how easily she does
but lay gilded upon my breast,
playing wetted mouth
as instrument for her music,
plying her kisses ‘gainst
this fire within my chest;
and ‘ere it lay for her,
my vanquished human heart,
were she but to hold
upon the quell of her flesh.

‘Twould of our lives mend,
with but a single kiss;
that we were the earth;
the sky, a blanket of stars,
that summer would ne’er fade,
and infinite as this;
would she but administer
her lips upon my breath,
would I be swept away,
yet want no sweeter bliss.

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Posted by on January 2, 2017 in My Poetry



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