Temptation's Wine

Wine mellows with time....waiting for the right moment...

~ to exhale.

But...for her ~ time passes, oh so slow

as she waits for the perfect reason to indulge ~

THERE IS A CERTAIN STILLNESS IN THE MOMENT...

When Temptation beckons

Lush & Sensual...

pale violet and shadow born

The voluptuous thing, meets temptation's wine~
the kind poured ... slow,
it curls its purple form around the throat of evening.
Staining the tongue with want,
with the soft ache of fruit that ripened
and waited...only for your mouth.
Every sip a promise,
every promise...holds quiet...wicked intentions .

Mystical & Surreal

Voluptuous things imprison your soul in promised sin
those brewed in the cellar beneath the world,
where moon‑plump grapes swell on vines
that softly whisper your longings...
as you sip its plum-ripened flavors.

The night unfurls
spawning purple-tyrian feathered creatures
perched upon your shoulder,
teaching you how desire whispers
rewriting the laws of gravity.

Wickedly Playful (with sly little grins)

the Voluptuous thing ...stills ~
the bottle winks,
the cork sighs,
and suddenly the room grows smaller
as if it has released something long held.
You take one sip
and the whole evening
starts unbuttoning itself.

The wine touches your lips, the air pulsates.
A soft click echoes from your pulse ~
framing the architecture of the night itself.
The velvet curtains sigh open,
revealing a sky that wasn’t there before,
looking suspiciously like its watching you...

~~~~~~~~~~But... it's only your imagination.

Even the clock, poor obedient thing, melts its numbers off
and time has decided it no longer wants to keep its shirt on.

The city outside leans closer,
windows blinking awake,
your single sip has summoned its attention.

And you ~
still holding the glass,
still tasting the ruby warmth ~
realize the evening isn’t falling apart.
It’s revealing itself.
Layer by layer.
Color by color.
Knowing that desire is not something you feel,
it's something the night feels with you.

The petals coil around the glass ~ protecting something sacred... thorns trace the bottle’s curves with tenderness and a hint of danger.

Candlelight flickers across the dew‑kissed surface, and the wine, once static... still...now comes alive...taste unravelling.

It’s the moment before indulgence, when beauty and desire become indistinguishable.

The roses breathe, the cork trembles, and the air purrs with the promise

~ that ...once poured,

~~~ the night will never be the same...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~For the static thing...has awakened.