Sometimes he felt like
A resedent of Camelot
From the outside walls
All is like a fairy tale dream
Within were moments of desires
Secrets parted, Lover's bodies.

During
Passionate, sensuous encounters
After the sun died
In the evening, of a moon less night
When shadows lurk in darken coners.

To the taste of honey,
The tongue is sweet
Masquerading bitter souls
Perfumed scent of flowers
Confused, for the stench of obscenity.


By: William Bonilla
09/03/06