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A single second of time I did afford thee --
You welcomed me into your veins.
I bled with your passion;
Raw, like an open wound.
You drove a spear into my chest --
The ache of your tenderness
spread across these eyes...
Leaving me blind to all but you.
Through your desires I have shaped the world,
in the image of lust.
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Tender and warm in description, sting in the tail. Ruth Pitter wrote something very cool and very similar - for lust we could be friends, i think was the title. Very much worth a post-modernist read.
