Incubus of Infamy

Sweet devil of angelic warmth,
speaking words of love within
a spring-like breeze of infamy;
lusting tenderly for all the feel
of sensuous, ecstatically revealed
sensations.

Each kiss a flower catching fire;
every touch, the heat of healing
balm. Too much, too much,
you came to ask of me; then
passively, you turned and
walked away.

Oh great desire, never satisfied;
as eloquently grandiose, you
lied a million lies; then lay with
me, as if they must be true.
Little demons, shivering and
hanging on your words; sucking
at the moisture beaded there;
seeking worship at the font
that only you can bring to
fountaining.

Sweet devil of angelic warmth
that feeds upon the heart.
Incubus of infamy, come
dance with me again; and
yet this time let's make it real
and feel our way into eternity...

? Michaelette ?

12/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...