Lose yourself in lust, my love;
Enjoy me as a thing.
Make my flesh your fantasy;
My soul, your sycophant.
I would you would with me, my love,
Let all your voices sing,
Losing not one ecstasy
That some sweet sin might grant.
For love loves not that secret space
Where dreams turn into wounds,
Festering for lack of care,
Untended but by stealth.
Love enjoys a secret grace,
Calliope of tunes
Inexhaustible, for there,
In trust, lies love's true wealth.
