An unfinished poem

I just found this poem that I started a few months ago and never completed. I thought I'd post it here and see if having it on my blog would provide some inspiring words to jump to mind so it can be fulfilled.

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Embrace

Your hand on mine,

untouched by time,

we travel down our secret street.

I comprehend,

cannot pretend,

you are my own retreat.

Caress your face,

where time and space,

and touch become white heat.

I hear you moan,

and I postpone,

before the final sweet.

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Ah, and now the edge this did require had finally be found. I'll add more to it later if I find it longs for additional attention.

Warm bread

Oh! The opitome of exstacy thus be warm bread in olive oil and sweet herb.

Do frolic upon mine palate thine beloved yeast.

Mine tongue doth desire thee to perturb

The divinity from within which thee hath unleashed.

Go on about thineself and leave be!

For if thou hast not restraint as I hath not,

Intertwined shall we become as thee

Overtaketh mine sensibility and henceforth caught,

Upon which moment I am thine and thee are mine.

Drunkenness hast begot as mingled essence taketh toll

Hence thee hast become deep burgundy wine.

Forebearance doth show thy hast penetrated mine soul.