In Those Giddy Heights Of Lust Poem by Mark Heathcote

Palpable as the butterflies
Compelling us to embrace a kiss
In those giddy heights of lust
They obliterate each amiss.

Like Cupid's sachet, arrows
We are windswept.
Hasten to traverse and
Fall—head over heels
and not be sidestepped.
Like—dishearten heroes.

We brush against peeling ivory and
Imagine her in her vintage clothes.
In all her undressed, naked form
Like mellifluous music
In all but her moonlit ambience
We imagine a compendium of ideas.
In those heavenly chapters—bookmark.