  When he said that his loins were afire, I knew that he was not for me. The cynical woman that I am cannot abide the flimflam of old romance.
I am a feral beast when it comes to lust. Do not write sonnets of love, Nor try to capture my essence in a twist-of-hair-at-my-nape haiku. Give me the heat that two consenting adults can generate, Once the niceties of society are laid to rest.
I want to prowl In the humidity of lust and roar in its climax. Meowpurr. ~Sherrie *This poem came to me after reading poem after poem of flaming loins in another romantic poetry group. Come on people, are we in the 19th century??? Course I didn't post this there. lol &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; Opal Rose &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; "Everyone has talent. What is rare is the courage to follow that talent to the dark place where it leads. " ~&nbsp;Erica Jong &nbsp; 
