The problem with souls
is they have bodies:
Mortal and ageing,
tied
bound
trapped by life’s conformity.
The trouble in a soul
is its guardian:
Self-protecting,
fallible
frightened
foe to itself.
The torment of my soul
is what it wants:
You.
And one dark soul
is powerless to guard against
a kindred spirit.
Captured
Body and Soul.
Forever yours.
Dark… light… eternal and yet fleeting as a firefly at dusk
what the soul knows
and body yearns
are pale copies of love, not unrequited
but full and rich as dark chocolate…
with raspberry drizzle
maybe some vanilla ice cream too
What we want is the same
and when
and when
and when we meet
in person
oh…. and when
and when we meet in person
the brightest supernova will pale to smoky wisps of mist as our passion rips a hole in the space-time continuum with a cataclysmic orgasm…
or two
or three
then again… maybe we’ll get breakfast instead
Kisses and Spanks
Your devoted Sir
I wasn’t expecting that! 😍 You leave me speechless, breathless… As ever, your poetry is simply stunning and as wonderful as you are, Sir. X