“Oh, for a candle I could light, to draw you closer
Oh, for a poppet made like you
With your own lovely body, sewn again with cloth
With your dark all-seeing eyes
With your c**k standing proud, and balls sweetly rounded,
Remade in wax or clay.
Oh, for a herb to place upon my tongue
To bring your tongue to mine…..
Oh, for a potion I could drink
Or slip to you, unseen,
At some state dinner party laid on for you.
Oh, for your nail parings….
Oh, for your hair….
Stirred in a brew, or
Baked in a honey cake….
I would make a stew, a soup, or witches broth
To bring your lovely thighs to mine.
I would search the world for rare meats, and sweet treats
To lure you here to me..
I would enter your blood and warm your veins
I would enter your eyes like laser beams
Then enter your palms like the Holy Spirit causing stigmata
To a sex-starved saint.
Oh, my love
I would spell you ‘evoL’ if mere anagrams
Would bring you near to me.
Hear me!
Come to me!
Love me!
Daughters of Qetesh 