A Tender Moan

Sweetest is the nectar of a forbidden fruit,
For within dwells, ever a fervent crave; to chase the unchaste.
And drench in its fill.
The folly of resistance or of veiled negligence,
I seek what is hissed under hushed sentences.

A gentle touch morphed to a firm grasp,
The yearn when unleashed, ravages without a moment's pause.
Bereft of a conscious thought, or indeed a need of it at all;
Matters only the fire that continues to rage on...

Under the silent gaze of the moon, a flower blossoms;
A lingering fragrance that beckons my presence.
Clutched within her embrace, a feast laid before the senses,
Limbs moving with a purpose, as if a stricken mind, consuming relentless;
Surveying the canvas yet longing to explore.
Locks pulled back in a tightened grip, laying bare a neckline awaiting to be devoured,
Caressed and teased, bit and besmirched,
Under the warmth of my breath, you shall heed the lure.

Glistening, wretched, smitten and drenched,
Cocooned in a void, devoid of space and time, I shall plunder these halls and empty my vault, accompanied by a gentle scream edging me on.
Amidst the flesh, I shall taste your sweat,
Rest beloved,
For before long I will come to ravage again...