Fire Flickering

           A fire, bright and flickering, dancing and churning, beneath those half closed lids did not I see?
           A spark, hot and fast, tossing past,did it not show in whose dark eyes, my reflection stands?
           Lust, it plays on the moisture of your inviting lips, it flutters within your heaving bosom.
           Am I not man, that I should not desire you so? Look! Harkan! Hear it on those silent lips, beckoning me.
           "Come!" you say, "We shall drink deep the wine of lust! Of love! Crush me in your arms! Make me yours!"
           I hesitate, and you sigh, I turn, but am I not a man? Does not the flame of love not burn deep within my chest? Of lust?
          Your lips Trembling, quivering, I took you, your love as dew, as sweet honey.
           I took your love, drinking deep the nector of that flower, your voice emplores me, more, more!
            Deep, into the depths of your being I plunged, and in that dark warm place became one.
            In your depths I lost my soul, overcome by lust, no man can control.
            Writhing, we moved together, rythmn, moving as one.
            Within our lust a seed dorment lay, awakened then, by fitful fray, and planted deep within our chests, a fire, flickering, churning.