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The Tempestuous Appetite
An Ode to the Ravenous Desires of the Soul
Amidst the howling winds and whispered fears,
The trembling of the snake, the guilt it bears,
Crawling to my chamber, my muse it steers,
Unbuttoned by hunger, and tangled in your hair.
Your locks a cascade of neglected strands,
Lost and wandering like vague thoughts at bay,
A tempestuous desire that haunts and expands,
Like a white rabbit, lost in its frenzied play.
Oh God, how I’ve tried to capture your essence,
But what remains after all is said and done?
I’ve embraced the pleasures, but to no presence,
How much does a woman yearn for someone?
The scent of perfume, I’m a genie in a bottle,
But beware, my love, don’t break my seal of lust,
My stormy seas and desires, they’re hard to throttle,
For those who don’t know, the flood is a must.
How much does a woman crave in her hunger,
For the sustenance of her eyes to come to life?
The appetite of the soul, a spell to conquer,
Unleashing the tempestuous waves of strife.
