He tasted of red hot spice
what Ares was made up of
a touch of malice
yet soft centered devotion
Crimson petals curled
along his lashes
spewed something cynical
like he was untouchable
I could feel him throughout
all seasons
count my fever off with
heat induced licks of his tongue
But who knew he was so vulnerable
so eager for pleasing
thirsty for tidal waves
begging
begging
I would hear him pleading
to be set free
from his curse
Éloa 
Leave a comment