Sorry if the Code tag is distracting, but it's the only way I know to keep the formatting (to the admin/mods: Is there another way?)
I slept with her in pleasure’s halls,
Near burning leaves that melt the snow to mush;
But pleasure waked delirifacient lights,
And raptured we were in the juicing gush,
Where tongues elicit blood from bites,
Tasting the sweat of summer squalls.
We left for Comfort’s town,
On downy beds, enwrapped in shawls.
It’s deep embedded in the sounds
Of sloughs submerging all the trickling slush,
Under the seraph’s autumn flight,
Where molded eaves surround.
Comfort is there inside a cup,
Where cocoa mingles with the evening steam.
Her altruistic smile will warm our lips,
And spirit us to deliquescent dreams.
She thaws our trembling fingertips,
Cradling our throats, as slow we sup.
Pain from our leaving comes
Abruptly; shivering like a pup
That’s blind, we yowl loudly, as scum
Is licked from us—the afterbirth that streams
From ruptured dreams, our fort’s eclipse
Where, curled, we sucked our thumbs.
Pain’s born in our eruptive opening
Of eyes, the ash of winters burnt in trying
To close them off again, and shed away
The aftermath. Our deleterious crying
Is pleasure’s spark, igniting days
Of moldered leaves and vultures’ wings.
But comfort—that can bind,
Like lovers sleeping in the spring,
Their limbs as roots so intertwined;
They cleave deep to their bed, together vying
For sustenance expelled in frays,
And liquids left behind.