Caricamento in corso...

Morning

You come with the sunrise to worship,
Disturbing my sanctuary of dreams.
Like a beggar on the steps of House of God
You stay at my feet,
Soul hungry for sustenance
That bread will not appease.
 
Hands prostrate,
Gaze transfixed,
You abide your time,
Waiting for me to stir.
The slits of my eyes open,
My hand reaches for yours.
 
An invitation,
You take,
Meekly at first.
You go over my body’s divine offerings
'Believe it, taste it, it’s yours.'
Lips, quivering with desire,
Partake of the flesh,
Hot and heavy from slumber...
 
Awakened, aroused
By the gentle sensation,
Back arched,
My being answers to yours
In a greeting.
 
You take my want
And give it back
In the fire of your breath
Upon my skin.
Trace every rivulet of my veins
With your tongue,
Cover every inch of me
With every inch of you.
 
Like a devotee at prayer
You bend over your holy ground,
Starved for transcendence,
You devour the scripture of life
Written in my every move.
 
Come to the center,
My fountain,
Quench your thirst.
Drunk on my nectar,
Plunge deep
And drown in the throws of your devotion.
Let 'the little death’ take you.
I will pull your lifeless body to shore
And breathe the oxygen of my love
Into your lungs.
When you come to,
We are one.
 
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2014

In French, orgasm is sometimes referred to as 'little death.'

Love, desire morning,

Piaciuto o affrontato da...
Altre opere di Olga Gavrilovskiy ...



Top