C'mere
I tingle your perception
with an erotic tongue
dangling like the hand
of a dying man
Whisk the tea-rose fume
and reel from the risqué smoke
unfurl the carnal pangs
and fondle the insides
Everything is here
my diminutive stars,
my far-fetched sighs,
even the gloamings
that erupted from my sky
And the white page
is a mother's milk
feeding the oppression
into the dying pyre
of our sedulous veracity
My premature frame
is naked in the flames
the flesh is charred
whilst the soul is stropped
to disenchant you
of this masquerading smile
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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