Fire Ghost

She appeared again,
that ghost from
lands
of elsewheres past.

Selfishness meant that
spring night by
my
country fire;

wine and whip-poor-will
the music of
lonely
night’s reflections.

“Love me,”
she whispered in
passion.
“Fuck me.”

Of pained heart,
my doubts risen in
tempo
with rising cock.

She loved before
in firelight past,
left
but then returned.

My resistance in
mind but
not
in loin.

Silhouetted silence,
Her nipples
erect
in fire’s light.

Lips and tongues join,
warmed dampness
gyrating
against my thigh.

Her breath heavy,
her fingers nimble in
freeing
hardness from my shorts.

She drinks my wine,
nipples pressing my
chest
in fire’s light.

Sipping together,
cunt sipping cock
and
cock sipping cunt.

Flames rise higher
up and around,
flickering
in bodies’ depths.

And then quietly,
shiver as we
cum
together again.

She holds me wordless,
we lap each other’s
wetness
and finish wine.

“Again, someday,”
she whispers as she
leaves
another time.

Me again alone,
by the fire
spent
in cock and heart.