The Perfect Sin
His head, he turns, his eyes they flash,
A sparkling spear of blue.
His voice, he laughs, the very note,
A trembling, vibrant hue.
An angel stands in wingless pride,
Before me, drawing near,
A smile upon his face shines bright,
The darkness disappears.
His smooth lithe form, his sweet faint scent,
His breath upon my skin,
I smile at him as he lay down,
We commit the perfect sin.
Author's Note: Please let me know your thoughts on the poem at the following email address link. Wayne Gray
And thank you for reading!
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