Oxymoron & Orgasms
Your fire is ice, it sears, it cools,
A paradox in silken rules.
Your whispers burn like frigid flame,
Each breath a snare, each touch untamed.
Your softness cuts—so sharp, so sweet,
A tender war, a cruel retreat.
You pull me close, then push me far,
A dying sun, a newborn star.
Your lips, a lie—yet truth inside,
A hollow moan, a place to hide.
A kiss, a kill, a breath, a bite,
A shadow cast in molten light.
No love was meant to feel this way,
A silent scream, a bright decay.
Yet still I drown, yet still I crave—
Your poison kiss, my willing grave.
A paradox in silken rules.
Your whispers burn like frigid flame,
Each breath a snare, each touch untamed.
Your softness cuts—so sharp, so sweet,
A tender war, a cruel retreat.
You pull me close, then push me far,
A dying sun, a newborn star.
Your lips, a lie—yet truth inside,
A hollow moan, a place to hide.
A kiss, a kill, a breath, a bite,
A shadow cast in molten light.
No love was meant to feel this way,
A silent scream, a bright decay.
Yet still I drown, yet still I crave—
Your poison kiss, my willing grave.
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Background: This erotic poem delves into the contradictions of desire. Love and lust, pain and pleasure, dominance and submission all blur together into an intoxicating dance. The lover in this piece is both a source of bliss and torment one moment warm and inviting, the next cold and untouchable. The imagery of paradoxes (fire and ice, a dying sun and a newborn star) represents the unpredictability of passion, where contradictions fuel the intensity. The final lines depict an addiction to this duality, where destruction and ecstasy become indistinguishable.
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