Folk Lore of Lust

His attraction induced a need I had nearly forgotten,
The sway of emerald trees of Irish atmosphere long hushed.
His touch inclined curiosity that should have been torched in
the days of adulates,
As the moon desperately yearns to candle light the waiting
cosmos.

A devilish anticipation of wondrous trembling flesh; slowing
falling into the trap,
Howling in despair as spheres are tossed to invoke our restless
necessities.
My Love had lost an eternal battle in a war that was written for
the ages,
And the body victors only to become the impatient sun overtaking
the skies.

His look soared into the genocide of my soul, unleashing a once
dormant beast,
Like a hellish agile banshee whaling for what I had shamefully
craved.
His thesis of endearment snatched the kindred dazzle I stored
for another,
Starlight grieves for the heart that has graced a shore in this
tale of lust and lore.

-Celtic Moon-