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Nocturne (sensual)
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Sensual Whispers Adorned in the purple satin draping
of moonlight and shadow,
my thoughts baptized
in the effervescent fountain
of our first euphoric encounter,
I wander... cherry-stained,
through the winding labyrinth
of a less than innocent infatuation...
drenched in the ripening
of a hypnotic nectarine fantasy
that finds me burgeoned... enslaved,
by the potent and all-encompassing sear
of your concupiscent eyes.
Ferment me in pomegranate kisses,
unclothed in the hush of an indigo night,
while grenadine's elixir drips ambrosial,
trickling to fill the crevices
of this unquenchable thirst.
Hungered have I,
impatient for the addictive pleasures
of your rapt possession,
I tremble...
intoxicated beyond redemption,
engulfed helplessly by the fires
of this wanton obsession.
Jasmine permeates my senses,
the air... perfumed, inhaled
in shuddering breaths of karmic recognition.
Come closer.
Assuage the burn of desire's nocturnal candle,
licked wicked
by the swollen fragrance of anticipation...
sweet scented aphrodisiac.
Mold the pliable clay of my willing form
to the quixotic whims of your insatiable appetite.
No limitation shall hinder the hours
of our sacred joining...
heart... mind... and body.
Open wide the dewy portals to your Shangri-la.
Enter the honeyed halls
in the palace of your kingdom
where you reign supreme and I...
I am your fallen angel,
quivering in the grip of this most primal urging,
and you... my salvation.
Ravish me with your sins,
then anoint me with your absolution,
as we shatter, prismed...
spiritual entities,
in those few breathless seconds
of ecstatic commune,
until we tumble softly back into cognizance,
spent by the tidal wave of passion
that rendered us undone
in the Chantilly tangle
of ebony lace and shredded inhibition,
as the silver of a voyeuristic moon,
a witness to our fervid intimacies,
blushes pale amaranth.
Wrapped in the silken cocoon
and grappled sheets of le petite mort,
we find Xanadu,
our fingers entwined
in the tender clasping of soul
that only lovers know.
You linger,
swallowing my whispered adoration,
as I lay... sated,
savoring the remnants of Zabaglione appeasement,
harbored...
until Morpheus claims us in his sanguine embrace.
© Ravenne
