That evening, I found you charming:
Kind/benign; but in your own quiet way,
bright as the sun.
(And we both burned incandescently
before the night was done.)
For you were moth and I was flame
Primordial fire we were challenged to tame
as we writhed through the ritual
no one should name
of touch and tease/debauch and please;
drowning each other in scandalous seas
of lava like lust
til we fell to our knees
in paroxysmal ecstasy.

A puppeteer of lechery,
you manipulated my body
like a marionetter;
a wild rutting bull filling me full;
bending me to the thrill
of your unexpected will
in ways I can never forget;
as I let you hold me/mold me,
carefully overpower me,
deliciously devour me
like a starving man;
explore me like some exotic land
of fruits and flowers,
honey and milk.
It seemed for hours you stroked my skin
as if it were silk.
And we were purged and submerged
in punitive heat
sweeping over us in surges
of unspeakable urges,
turgid and sweet.

(Perhaps we will accidentally
meet at the Opera, politely shake hands,
introduce us to our spouses,
and smile the secret lovers' smile.)

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