love songs issue from your voice, lilting and
dulcet toned...voice within your ivory throat.
but the notes shatter against my stone ear,
as I focus on your arousing neck, where my
lips would fasten like leeches, leaving
discolored welts on your honeyed skin.

you sit for hours at your Queen Anne desk,
composing floral bouquets on your parchment.
their fragrance intrudes upon the room like a
minted breeze, that touches me only as a
shivering gale.   lay down your quill,
that I may suckle you fingers...

you lace misty dreams and foggy notions on your
paper, enticing angels and fairies, who perch upon
window sills and shadow boxes on the walls,
entranced, inebriated.

I long for your inspiration to turn briefly from the
poetical to the sensual. come to my bed free of
musings and clothing, allow me to taste the coconut
cream of your flesh, and thereby extinguish the fires
that consume me...

your poems are delicious and desirable,
a feast for the spirit,
but my spirit is fat enough.

I hunger for the real ---
feed me!