I bask before the constantly
glowing embers of your love...

The night descends and there you are, haunting me-
From hundreds of miles away and three...

I am certainly not a damsel in distress,
no need to save me...

We all have an attic, the repository of unwanted...
Dusty, old, the cobwebs lie in wait for visitors...

Green, unawakened,
All the questing young...

I crave the heartbeat in your fingertips, their
skillful movement feed my panting soul...

"You seem to have lost the rhyme,"
I hear it all the time...

I hear two voices wrapped around each other;
Promises intertwined between entangled legs...

You belly up to me, ready to feast.
Hand grappling your shiny spoon...

I'm the olive in your martini,
stinging from a splash of vermouth...

I woke up kissing you;
Remnants of a dream...

My body is trapped in this mind
I try to break free, with fragile arms...