The beauty of night covered with raven darkness
loosens the private passions of the mind.
I see you in a thousand ways,
each one a lust-filled fantasy.
My secret heart revealed during the robe of night -
with trusting eyes open,
experiences your fire with blindness.
The light that keeps privacy,
the darkness that bring amorous bravery,
provoking the courage of brother wolf...
you are my heart,
and every re-enactment that arouses.
The dampness on my skin
is the heat of desire for you.
when day has exhausted,
I search for your mystery with longing.
Come to me, secret,
and take over...
my words come to me as verbal imagery,
and do not "stay within the lines" of rhyme...
does the style of imagery 'offend' the die-hard poets...
whose verses consistently rhyme?