Salvation
Erotic Poetry
The boundaries between the sacred and the profane have always been thin;
throughout history,
artists have used
the language of the soul
to describe the hunger of the body.
as my cunt hungers
a splurging wetness
that lubricates into my panties
so they fold and friction
I know it’s primal
a feeling non verbal
as we’re 10ft apart not even touching
there you in the front
likes pews rowed up
oblivious and holy
no I idea of the horror I fear
from wanting you so badly
to fuck me under gods eyes
as penetrating as your gaze
a liturgy of your skin
calling me to touch it, caress it
lick it loathe it like it love it
I approach you here in this space
not as a casual guest,
but as a pilgrim reaching the heavy doors of your inner sanctum.
a hush in the air between us,
like prayer
a silence shrouded in tension
the kind found only in cathedrals at midnight,
where every breath is an offering and every glance a vow.
In that space I see thy wanting
I feel thy breathing heaving breast
full with life and lust
I trace the scripture written in the curve of your collarbone,
a testament of grace
and goodness in what’s bad
wholeness in what’s here
I am allowed to read even worship
My hands, once idle, have found vocation
at the altar of your ribs,
counting each one like a bead on a rosary.
your my rite of touch
a passage
anointed
My lips to follow the path of a silent benediction across your throat.
My Offering to you
I give up the ghost of my restraint, laying it at your feet.
this Communion
this breaking the bread of the moment,
soft and warm, until there is no "thee" or "me," only the wine of our exhales.
They say the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,
yet tonight,
my flesh is the most honest thing I own.
In the architecture of this embrace,
I find a different kind of salvation
one that doesn't require a heaven,
your reach and grapple and touch
you your breath and being
your words, your wisdom and seeing
I have found promised land
in the salt and heat of your skin
and in the exhilarating
feeling of your embrace.


Vianne, you've done it again. You feed my spirit with your passionate prose, running over with sensuality and worship. This is beautiful!
The imagery is vivid and unapologetic, and what stands out most is how you frame desire not as something separate from the soul, but as another form of truth seeking expression.