Him Him. Him and all his beauty. Its there. Bare. Pale under the pale glow of the moonlight that claws its way through the black tangle of trees. They whisper in the cold wind. His eyes are made of shards of broken stars, washed in with an ocean's tears. They glow with the rest of his magnificence. My blood boils. From him. For him. I want him. I'm marvelling over the comforting flames of desire that flush through me like a pleasant poison. My tasteless day is full of his flavour, and I adore it. His smell, his taste, his feeling. Lust is an addictive fire, pleasantly scorching my mind. The hard, hungry lips, the brushes of bare bodies. He is a drug. I'll need another fix.
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