Colors of Sex III Red

The time of hours carries dust
That settles on the shelves of letters,
Revealing abstinence and lust;
A maverick of twenty years.

They see you in the subway wearing red,
You read Balzac at night, Moliere,
You seek commitment, warmth and bred;
Your teenage sex - a distant flare...

You know, it seems, too much of passion;
Astounded partners are demolished,
They look for reasons in dismay;
Your taste of sex is almost polished.

You wear fancy high-heel shoes,
Your dress reveals what should be hidden;
Your sex adorns you, cuts you loose,
You drown in things that are forbidden.

Green eyes ablaze in constellation
Of dreams that glitter on your face;
I walk into this open maze,
You treat me with incineration.

I suckle you with shattered strength,
I offer it in midnight hours;
At dawn you crush what could be ours,
You cool my blood with parching breath.

My open veins on bed of sex...
Red is the night of concubation;
You leave perfume on writing desk,
Where poems nurture my frustration.

They often see your dazzling beauty;
You dress like goddess - warlike red,
You seek commitment, warmth and bred;
I could perform that august duty.

Your twenty years still have nothing
To keep you close to someone"s heart;
Your rose of sex - a trick and bluffing,
It is in blood and in demand.