Seductive Art

I could call it sex

But it'll be injustice

To the art

With its purity

In the poems

Written

In her body

And mine.

It was poetry too

An erotic taboo

That meets no other eyes

But the unflinching stares

From the walls

The happy sheets

And the warmth

Burned into the air

Into our breathes.

With each touch,

As soft as it comes,

As squeezing,

As hard,

And ripples,

And breathing whispers,

Wet our hearts

Our arts

And dances of burning flesh

To the seductive beats

Of sweet healing.

The bond with her soul,

Lifted me whole

It was beauty

Poetic than my art

More than poetry

That breathes in my heart.