Tags
Babylon, brutal kiss, erotic poetry, more than just spilled ink, recluse, seduce a sex demon, sonnet, succubae, succubus
Why do it alone? Eyes wide in the dark
at your curled shape sharing this bed. Hell spawn,
they claimed, with hints of goat legs, Lilith’s mark,
sick dreads. You’re Rastafari’s Babylon
in ways I can’t. What do succubae dream
of when they dream? I’m uncouth, so perhaps
how my love bites woo’d you? How the obscene
salt in my skin called you mine? What mishaps
drove us together? We dream of claiming;
my scent spilled inside you, every brutal
kiss, each time we say mine. Try and seduce
a sex demon. It’s not an easy thing …
even with dreads. You were unlovable,
you claimed. I was just a sex-starved recluse.