Throes of Passion

Throes of Passion

Your eyes have spoken such disdain

amidst the berth that we have lain

the silken flesh porcelain

scented petals from within.

The poesy without word

from lips claret unfurled

such passion in the midst of throe

and breathless strewn among the woe.

Lay we now dipped in the ink of our eyes

into the pools of acquiescence, our demise

I press my soul up against yours

I wilt away into the gloomy core

the rhythm in my heart no more…