Longing for lust,
Or is she lusting to long?
Memory of the moans,
Or is it moaning for memories?
Possessed by the play,
Or is she playing like the possessed?
Heat of the warmth,
Or is she seeking the warmth of the heat?

Desire rebels again today for no cause;
Screaming, most times begging.
Lips these tremble,
seeking another life;
As erotic lashings prepare for more strife.

Indulgent sips, these sinful hips,
Veins these, threaten to burst open;
Veins these, yen to race in rapture.
So as to die a moment,
When all that spirit is spent.