Trade/Silent Enticement/ I/ The Perfect Ahhh

Trade

I lick the sugar of your morte
as you taste the salt of my milt.

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Silent Enticement

I am the wind blowing
through your hair
the hand underneath
your skirt
the goosebump rising
on your skin
the hot whisper
in your ear
the cold tickle
of you lavender
igniter.

I sleep in the ether dear.
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I

I sit here contemplating
the weight of love,

for my scales
neither dip nor rise,

for I am that fucking
scale and love must
weigh me.

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The Perfect Ahhhh

She lays there naked and quivering
asking me to quench her storm,

I give a wink with my third eye and I reply,
"Baby no where will I grant you any calm."


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