Visitor Board

Apr 25, 2010

2) Incubus

Warmth of the night,
Fingers of hard fire, smoldering,
Across my skin like a burning light,
Intensity such that I quiver with fright.

Real voices, warm, deep, sensual,
The feel of skin in my embrace so tight-
Movement is so rich, so visual,
Something as vivid to me seems unusual;

Illusions flit across like a dream
But they seem so real, sending sensation of sparks-
White beauty upon us both like cream,
Happiness and pleasure might have made me scream;

You truly are an incubus, the dead of dark,
Thoughts of you are like jolts of spark,
And though my eyes stay open for hours at night,
I see you, around me, holding me tight;
A deep inhale of your scent,
The shivered sensations of your voice
The swiftness of your fingers,
Your presence is by my choice.


Post a Comment

What did you think of the poem? Post your review here!

Template by:
Free Blog Templates