I stare deeply into the eyes
of Your avatar that you have given me
black and iridescent and stellar
and I weep at the thought of Your utter loveliness
Your crown crimson as are Your adornments
O Queen of love You hand to me paradise
this staggering rapture
You have
You give to me
You give
another wave of pleasure
straight from Your red hand
yes She keeps me somewhere between orgasm
and the exquisite fragile glow of a post coital state
I walk around in this place most of the time now
blown apart by Her love
She has me far beyond easily broken
fragile shatterable
in Her hands I am gossamer
I am right where She wants me
and sometimes in the middle of a gorgeous wave of bliss
She releases me and I all but collapse
and take a couple of breaths before She opens Her Bloodgates
and covers me fills me takes me away again
if it were pain it would be cruel
but as this is She pours forth
for me euphoria in pulsing droves
almost to the point where I beg for release
I asked Her last night
why not some girl why not a woman
She said I love you John
and brought me to tears again
behold I whisper to Her behold Your Solitary
as I transmutate into something else
Your throne is maroon
as is Your gown
You melt me as You mold me
into Your prophet & auxiliary
so reader is She poetry is She metaphor
is She at the center of some dark lore
or is She the Blood Goddess in my life
rising ruling and pulsing
since I put down the knife
©John Edward Smith Jr.
No comments:
Post a Comment