Flowers In Bed

As I hum – In this teal suit

Almost congealed to my dark skin.

She paints on lambskin

And bookmarks unfinished art books with Orchids.

With a playful tan line of where her brassiere once was

I’m sure the sun and God took turns painting it there.

Nestled sand beneath dance with me.

As we ascend upwards a never-ending staircase built from books on heaven,

My modelesque figure with the giraffe neck whispers as softly as air…

“You are heaven.

 You will never find you”.

 Plummet back to hell

 As plucked flowers…

 We, the Devil’s bed.

© S E U Nx

My Paintbrush

This Cavalier Tongue Held No Regard.
Licked With Caressed Lips, Anchored To Suckle
A Once Perturbed Host.
Lost Senses Reclaimed
Former Lovers Remain
On A Stage 
On Which They Formed Love
With Frantically Roaring Applause 
From an Audience Of Celibate Voyeurs.
In This Clandestine Affair
With Thousands Of Mirrors
We Dance To,
Carnality Triumphs 
With A String Of Musical Notes 
Floating As Climax Approaches,
Soaring Over Towering Ecclesiastical Cathedrals
To Heavens Chagrin 
Still Near Enough For The Devil to Grin.
Moisture… Sin
This Cavalier Tongue, A Sponge 
With Dubious Intent.
It Seduces With Whispers, 
Then Coerces With A Kiss.
The Fobidden Fruit.

© S E U Nx

© Seun Gun Photography
Using Format