Slave

Passion frenzied fingers

starved and ravenous for raven hair.

Shyly hesitant, yet arduous

for the rawness

of that first delicious touch.

….

'Meekhaamet'

….

Aching for the taste

of snow drift skin,

salacious lips slick-moist

in a river of dreams

….

(kissyoulightasair then heavyaswinterrain.)

….

Enthralled by a bright soul shining

through stygian ink swirls.

Zoroastrian fires flaming,

make
me your twilight slave.