Imagination’s Rapture

by Storme Illingworth


Lying in bed alone at night
In the dim glow of an outside light
The most perverse thoughts run through my mind
Of taking your body and making it mine
My hands running confident
My tongue exploring hard, you’re hesitant
But my passion is a fire gone wild
And my imagination is no innocent child
Wanting you, taking you, having you
I conjure images so true
Our bodies entwined in desire
Driven by animal-like fire

Yes, I tremble in anticipation of the most divine sort
Waiting for a moment called la petit mort
To go up in flames, melt this body of ice
I alone can your beast entice.

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