tracing my steps in smoke
just a whisp of air
that rises as incense
divine in nature
but humanly flawed
desecrated holiness, drawn to what I ought not disturb
crimson spice it is lust
perfume to my lovers nose
a heady fragrance, to arouse him within
sensuality in a glance
his ardor fully risen
my soul feels fear
if I give into the flesh I will be consumed
dedicated chastity that I don’t tresspass
with a purification ritual I renew the mists inside me
becoming a vapor with the water and air
raining down upon your soul refreshing you
taking not what is my due
Incredible! It’s like she doesn’t want to desecrate her sacred holiness even though it begs her to give in to human desires and lust so she transforms back into smoke. Really incredible poem and picture, Crimsin.
hello dearest Tim lust can be all consuming…the soul moveable but untouchable like smoke… I love you review thank you graciously ❤️
Nice! Enticing and not tacky at all. This is pure poetry, Crims. You did a great job with it. And what a pleasure to read it.
hello dearest Styxian thank you graciously I’m happy you liked it ❤️
Passionately penned, Brenda. An amazing write my friend. Nicely done per usual. Appreciate you.
Damian
hello dearest Damian thank you my friend ❤️