The Right Kind of Sinners

She traces infinity
with the tip of her tongue,
pressed firmly to the softest of skin.

He strikes with vigilance
beyond the fold,
piercing the heart of heaven.

Like devils at play, wings spread
circling prey,
they tease and ravage
to no end.

They press and push,
bidding for her attention
dividing her,
beyond limits.

They mesh and meld,
weighing themselves into her,
until all she can do
is bend.

With no mercy to be had
from deviants like these,
they inflict extreme pleasure
and grin;

the right kind of sinners
clouding her most basic thoughts
until all that remains,
is pure instinct.