The Soul Sanctuary: 2) Incubus

Apr 25, 2010

These are the terribly insignificant musings of Aishwarya Nagar at 10:09 AM

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.