The Realm Where It Rains...

the black butterfly
flutters
into my palace

my lips begin
to steal sips
from her chalice

every kiss
strips off a fragment
of her armor

her skin my violin
my tongue a fiddle,
plays the psalm of her

obsessed with the opus,
my only focus,
is to siphon the cocoa
from her semi- sweet flesh,

our fingers mesh,
primed,
my missile leaves the silo

destined for the
realm
where it rains

where she constantly  
chants a rhapsody,
that repeats my name

the more she whispers no
the deeper I go,

even deeper, and deeper

deeper than ever,
her opulent oils
sleeker than ever

while her nails drive
into my triceps,
slitted eyes
from the high of sex

until we overdose,
I hold her close                                                                              
as a fragile Faberge’                                                                                                                      
                                                                                                                                 
she left at 3,                                                                                                                
on a current of ecstasy---                                                
she fluttered away...