Does all lust start and
end like this? Don’t get me
wrong. I loved my wolf.
I held him tethered like
a pussycat. I nursed
the rumble in his belly
with hands gentle as a burglar’s.
He lived on milk
and blood and ocean. He
had violets for his furs.
Filed under: Love, Poetry, Relationships, Sex and Sexuality | Tagged: Love, lust, poem, Poetry, sharanya manivannan, woman | 11 Comments »