The Weapon of Tongues



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





I would hear him pleading

to be set free

from his curse





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