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.
Mmmm. 
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