by Indy Dark ©
Pan's domain was never-never land
At times it seems
That's just where I stand.
Somewhere between awake and a dream.
Fully conscious,
Yet not what it seems.
I can touch
you
With a touch from within
A gentle caress
But not of the skin.
My words leap from the page and race to their mark
You grasp for something, but you grope at the dark.
To stir you,
requires more than just decadence and sin
Your fires and daydreams of passion begins
Not from the graphics but born from the pursuit
You are aware I desire, your womanly fruit.
Never a conqueror, no cause for alarm,
My desire is for you, to reach for my arm.
Submit to
me, and profess without shame
"Continue sir please, I long for your flame,
to come out of the darkness and challenge my strife
your words on the page are igniting my life.
My loneliness consumed by your bonfire's roar
I close my eyes, it is with you that I soar.
I long for
your touch, I would concede I swear,
But your image is unclear, I'm unsure if you're there.
Materialize and take me. Scoundrel without honor,
do not make me beg or counter my offer,
Passions denied; a torture, the worst
I yearn for your flesh, you must quench my thirst."
Dear maiden,
I know that you just can not wait
But by design, I bring you to this glorious state.
Your senses are heightened, your skin on fire,
Your eyes reveal, a raging desire.
Some men revel in a passionate kiss,
But a woman on fire is true sexual bliss.