He Holds My Body Poem by Cherie Mort

He holds my body like warm, liquid amber
He caresses me with his fingers, his touch as light as butterfly kisses
His kisses make me burn and melt in shocks of pleasure
The god of Death is a sweet lover, indeed
I moan and curl and contort under him, my honey-eyes barely open as he touches my body
He opens me up like a flower to sunlight, and I convulse uncontrollably as he draws nectar from me like a bee from a young bloom
He is strong and gentle with his touch, experienced in his ways of making one succumb to him
With him by my side, I have almost no desire to return to the daylight world,
For the grip of his darkness is irresistible
And I have fallen far and fast and hard for him