As though the ground beneath my feet
Saw itself fit
To open up, and spill forth the salivation,
From a mouth,
And from the longing
That had granted itself, openly.
You knelt there, upon the surface of the soil,
Upon the pavement,
And breathed a smile into my hands.
A little treat for your erotic soul,
For a face that has come to know
Itself, for nothing it truly knew.

Love is now a grind
During when your lips lay themselves down
To kiss my hands,
For all the gifts I offer in the form of white,
The bread, it is, that you’ve been starved of
To turn your mind towards the world of spite.

And now lust lies clinging to your shoulders,
Little beauty of modern times.
Being offered bread of white, for yourself,
Wide open and spread,
With hands upon your groin,
Soft touches to the sight of honey
That drains between your legs,
Because, your eyes knew when to feel.

However, they are closed,
And upon the sight of focus.
And, as an eruption comes to run your body into reverberation,
I’ll see splendid temptation
Coming from a new glance, from a heart of amorous dedication.
As I’ll say,
“All the bread I offer, shall not decay.”