Our clothes cascade upon grass blades,
Your devil beckons; crawl into the woods
Where the beast can ravage
Your veil of ivory purity.
I want to strip you to the bone
In this forest of broken churches;
Draped under the blanket
Of liquid ecstasy, as crimson drips
From our sin-bathed tongues.
Let the scarlet rain paint your curves
With a brush-stroked kiss;
Soak, your innocent speech
In the red wine haze to lose
Yourself in the taste,
Of a serpent’s bliss.