Muse

Those winsome words
Tumble from your tongue,
Drip and drizzle
In languid, lyrical
Velvet veils.
The tantalising treacle,
Perfectly pouring
Caramelising, crystallising
Your beautiful breaths into
Delicious desire.

Sentences spill as smoke,
From lascivious lips,
Coiling and curling,
Erotically exhaled,
Inhaled to inherit
The poetic poison,
Fogging firing synapses
Scattering senses,
Taking luscious lungfuls
Of your addictive diction.

Your powerful pages are
Expertly etched,
Scrawled and scratched
With intent to inspire.
Ink with an inkling
Of soul and sin,
Illustrious, indelible,
Biting and bitten.
Marred and marked,
To return to, renewed.

You’re a beautiful, bound book,
Cased within canvas,
Vivacious and vibrant.
The tome a sweet testament
To artistry’s aspects.
Nascent knowledge,
Esoteric expertise
Graciously gifted
In the required reading
Of a venerable, velour volume.