Her heart is troubled and could not beat
as prompt as the wicked efreet
traveling within the desert wind,
seizing all purity he would find.
A gentle breeze over her cheek
could carry her to a mountain peak,
where embarrassment was afar
and god was love winged avatar.
My sin was an allegory of humanity,
my psyche is a slave of my pleasure,
I would rather be faithful to my flesh
and never seek to placate my guilty
than tend to the prickled divine leash
trying to deny a woman most pure desire.
A contest entry
- Anything by aien aristeuein.
445 points, ended November 13, 31 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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