deepundergroundpoetry.com
SEVEN
SEVEN
How cold, my love, the nights have been
The wind & rain
The frost upon the window pane
And in between, without the sight
The lack of touch
My tantric breath you miss so much
'Tis from a mist I make full known
My phantom dance
By ankle turn your eyes to chance
So dimly lit is room, your bed
Yet see the hint
My lover's rise of purple tint
Through such a pall flows passion scent
I slip aside
The first of seven veils confide
'Tis as a light whose presence warms
My body turns
Another veil, you feel the burn
The shadows from a moon that breaks
Enhancing curves
And sets aflame your ev'ry nerve
The pale & tender bend of flesh
No blemish crest
As whispered veil reveals a breast
The mauve of areola round
Another pass
A second cloud of heaven's mass
My hair floats softly up like wings
And as I spin
I stroke my lamp, become your djinn
No smoke & mirrors, no deft mirage
My dance enthralls
Your need replies as my sex calls
Another veil is felled away
I come to stake
My velvet mons for you to take
The final veils are mysteries
Your eager hands
Have tied them into silken bands
And splayed like eagle's prey to feed
My hips to dance
As skillfully your tongue to lance.
Entered in the DUP competition "Striptease".
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