we drown in amber and honey

a forbidden rapture spread between cobweb threads

we are frantic moths - lights feeding on the flesh

created from ripe fruits and unfurling moss

it rustles and whispers; undeciphered keens

it becomes sweeter - pears and raspberries

lingering on a tongue with unspoken plead

my claws in your core, digging deeper

my teeth in your marrow -

it trickles with liquid flames

we drip from the tree tops

like crimson dew

bleeding on the spread fingers of the forest gods

until we bury softly into the mire