Ode To The Marvel Of Devouring Lust (Revised )

by Janis krumins

My stripped heart
idles in passion's liquid fire
aching to brush hard
against your swelling breasts,
unto those vanilla scented
sacred, torrid jewels,
that outshine the stars and the harvest moon
in my fevered, translucent nights,
where, with my Devouring Lust,
I have captured every nightingale
to imprison all the love poesies
and let you only feel
the hunger of my vaulted lips,
how they tremble for freedom
to become a tyrant granite wave
and crash nakedly
into the inviting ivory shores
of your prismatic submission,
trying to quench
their unquenchable intimate thirst
again
and
again

Oh, let my stubborn hands become
the sweetest villain of your glazed dreams
who wonders lost, drunk on rejuvenation,
between
your fruitful folds of softness,
upon the beating meadows
of sensual hills and hidden valleys
of exhausted yearnings,
exploring the depth of the universe
while your soft
rose tinted limbs
scream out from your
twirling torso awash in sunrise
to call upon the storms of embrace

Come my sweet Beloved!
Leave the silent rain behind
the mutilated walls of exile.
Take me into your eclipse of seductive fusion,
where you unfold your sensual palms
to mold my unclaimed earth
into the contour of your nubile smile.
And, as I am reverberating
in your phosphorescent mind,
with the tip of your eyelashes,
while you reveal all my elliptical dreams
in carefree nakedness,
write your exposed name
upon the un-foretold promise
of my mortal heart's pulse

Slowly,
as your melting shadow arches over
the canopy of my offering
crimson visions seep
through the cosmic portals of your want,
dreaming transformations become
bite marks of resurrecting reality.
Paralyzed in a haze of presence,
you drink the streaming,
deep fantasies of sexual elixir
from my spreading lips.
And with your eyes closed,
you watch me as I burn
your trembling, pallid prayers
into falling, echoless
ashes of innocence
while your hips slowly swallow
my hidden breath
unleashing vapors of awaiting syllables
to fill the tired, tepid air
with the nostalgic nectar of our skin

There is no longer you
nor I
just
an embrace in Life's Movement
only
One Soul
that has become
a tormentor, a savior,
a prostitute, a virgin,
to die for
to be restored to life
from the seeds of

Love