Sweet Hot Tea II

He was sweet, dripping honey from
his lips, lust from his eyes,
fire from his hands.

I know sugar is bad for me.
My head reasons, drinking from
crystal clear fountains of love
would do me more good than
that sweet sap, that poison, slowly
killing me, eating me from the
inside out, desire coursing
though my dry, dusty veins.

But my heart welcomes the sting, and
savors the burn as it moves down and
down and down