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deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Votre Service
One more taste for the night
His essence a thrill to be savored
The salt on his skin
The blood in his veins
His seed swallowed slowly
The meal leaving him a husk
A memory of the man he was
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Not long thereafter the craving recurs
Her yen for the sustenance of men
She writhes in her chamber
The fire dying lower by the hour
Her need spurs her to the sky
Circling over masculine prey
"A votre service," they invariably say.
His essence a thrill to be savored
The salt on his skin
The blood in his veins
His seed swallowed slowly
The meal leaving him a husk
A memory of the man he was
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Not long thereafter the craving recurs
Her yen for the sustenance of men
She writhes in her chamber
The fire dying lower by the hour
Her need spurs her to the sky
Circling over masculine prey
"A votre service," they invariably say.
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