From a Lustful Tale

Far from a Shakespeare’s tale,

in the summer of little slumber;

our sinful desires unveil

a Zane’s Eden of pleasure.

Perfume was the luring scent;

passion fueled the chemistry.

Preying after pheromones vent,

pain is the pleasure of intimacy.

Ra waves goodnight to the sky,

for candles can light long after.

Igniting flames in a lover’s eye

yearning for one’s thunder.

We’ll create the perfect storm

when our souls collide.

Quakes and tides will form,

but the waves won't subside.

How big is your sword?

How strong is your might?

Ignore the Sirens’ chord;

or drown like many at night.

Let down your hair you say,

so to charm your way into my castle.

Know this dragon you must slay

should be of a Trojan battle.

My body shall be your treasure

worthy of an epic story;

Hope your ego and endurance measure,

or gossip shall stain your glory.

Blood and souls collide;

then, energies transform

into a life force of pride,

so destiny can perform.

As Aphrodite's magic

brings forth intimacy,

fertility inspires logic

and traditional legitimacy.

Lead your heart with caution.

This isn’t a happily ever after.

Carnality has no compassion

in a summer of no mornings after.

In this season, dogs are panting

when ladies strut by.

While tramps leave begging,

sleeping dogs must lie.