Passion

44 Black satin, 44 China white 
color my fingers. 
Tires squealing, fabric tight, 
You're taste lingers, my mind not right. 
Mahogany vines sprawled along ivory and muscle, 
enraptured senses, nails creating lines. 
intoxicated by softened steel and wine. 
Don't break the spell, our oxymoron 
we're venom and spice, savage and nice, 
king rich, pathos poor. 
Internal talisman no longer restraining, 
voodoo confused no more. 
Unsure words finally released, 
no prayers or potions, or needed tricks. 
Closed doors opened, sheets unmade, 
bones no longer broken by stones and sticks.

Sheets Unmade