Reality check

“It begins with the curves of your lips
Angles that threaten my sanity
As the bound slave submits to the master
I yearn for the softness of the touch
Thirsting for them so fervently I turn mad
I confess
The desert heat blasting my mind of all but you
Your lips that capture my kiss in the merciless embrace
of that who holds the key to the treasure chest
Creating friction as the magic works through my veins
Along the tight ropes I walk in the infinite search for one more touch
Finding the ends of the laces intertwined around my neck
Tugging on them in my blind pursuit of release
Your lips are velvety when they touch my face
Trails of burns left behind as their ghosts
The proof it isn’t just sweet illusion
They make the softest silk envious
And I am left to mourn their memory
Body still warm
I refuse logic
I dare say
Every poet has a muse – every action a consequence
The perfection of the pairs not lost on me
As those lips, those endless lips
Capture my eyes every time
Just as they do
Against my own.”

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