Original Photo :

I catch a scent,

That floats in the air,

The lust,

The decadence,

The yearning despair,

The sweet hint of sweat,

And dark visceral musk,

A forbidden perfume,

Yet the essence of trust,

Your breath,

Your whisper,

The tease of your touch,

All prelude the falling,

The need is too much,

Awash with the fire,

In the demons own lair,

The wait,

The want,

The almost there.



 Photo Copyright : hans van den berg


If I started to weep,

Would you ask me what’s wrong,

Would you open your arms,

 Make me feel I belong,

Would you wrap me in warmth,

And heal me with heat,

Would you kiss away tears,

Let my fears all deplete,

Would you let your hand fall,

And let it tease over skin,

Would you watch my chest rise,

Feel the hard nub within,

Would you lower your mouth,

To the bud that awaited,

And drink from the chalice,

Till your thirst had abated,

If I asked you for more,

Would you know what I need,

Would my sorrow be sated,

Would you let me concede.


You Are My Addiction


You are my drug,

My addiction of choice,

Chains of my capture,

That wrap me in vice,


You are the languor,

That seeps in my soul,

The stillness of torpor,

That takes my control,


You are the liquid,

Secreting my tongue,

The taste of elation,

The devil has spun,


You are the hunger,

My body is craving,

The bread of my being,

That feeds the enslaving,


You are my Sun,

My moon and my rain,

You are my weakness,

And I’ve no one to blame.