Oh for your tender touch
That silken wisp of pleasure,
The outpouring of life giving treasure
A parting of sweet tasting skin.
Oh the sound of short lived gasp
The adrenaline rush
The savage crimson gush
As sinew parts within.
Oh for the delicious conclusion
The severing of vertebral bone,
The crowds collective moan
Where eternity does begin.
Oh for that last tender touch
As the blade in flashing fall,
The throat fills with spittle and gall
And the head falls in the bin.
Phil Hall November 2017
Copyright: Philthepoet61.blogspot.com
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