Seven Sins: Lust

The first sin

Graphic created by H. R. Sinclair using Canva. Original image by Евгений Горман.

Adultery. Desire. Perversion. Immorality. Flesh.

Image by Claire B Xia.

Missing Person - Linda Kowalchek

Close the blinds 
And dim the lights.
Heaviness in the air calling me 
To remember who I used to be.

A stranger in the mirror looking back at my face 
Covered in heavy make up.
Empty eyes with a vacant stare 
And a tiredness washing over me.

Bored anticipation fills my body 
As I pace up and down the hall.
My heels pound the floor while I wait 
For the knock at the door.

Soon ordinariness arrives 
And makes his way toward me.
He is no one 
And nothing to me.

Do what you came 
Here to do.
Enter my home 
And enter me.

Stick yourself 
Deep inside me.
Sink in deeper 
If you dare.

Push until there is nothing left 
To put in me.
You will never fill me 
No matter how you try.

Finger me 
Into oblivion.
Leave me bloody, torn, 
And dripping of the life I once had.

Manipulate my body 
As you like. 
But know my nonexistent soul
Cannot sense your touch.

For I feel 
Nothing. 
This is my fate
And it will never change. 

I am forever 
A vacant vessel.
The person I once was 
Is gone.

© Linda Kowalchek 2025

Image by Josue Velasquez.

Objectifying (In)tensions - Sylvia Kalina

I’m bathing in all I see, your arm your masculinity as you reach for your morning coffee amidst the cafe clattering shaft of morning light highlight in follicle rhapsody symphony of piano keys and violin strings in my ears, tears pooling, spilling salt on my lips as I savour this erotic dance with you, bathing becoming drowning as I search for connection with your eyes, just a glance, so I can see your soul, talk to you with longing, urging, to trace your red reverberating auric outline, savory forming transgression, temptation in my mouth. I vibrate intensely, uncomfortably so publicly yet the heat that rises brings such ecstasy and I know if it is not you it will be another. I am my heart, pulsing for you my plea to devour even just a drop of your elixir. Unaware feasting leaves me fraught with tension as I consider, debate, dismiss this moral treachery, dark around the edges in the battle of consumption and now it’s all cymbals.

Pushing past bodies humid rush spreading I fall merging into halo of citrus and honeysuckle drip, trickle, fiery reclamation claiming my chest heave and fall, spinning ‘round caught floating, breeze born moisture, sea kissing air, wild spectrum of sunsetting femme, pulsing of energy rippling upward, tantalizing shapes, undeniable quake overwhelming and urging. The shifting hues, her scent seducing, half hunter, half admirer, predatory instinct introduction, ghost fragrance and electricity humming under skin deeper than bloodlust, my breath frozen, lightning bug trapped in a jar. That feeling of reeling real-life daydreaming it always comes and it lays me bare in the wake of this reality that feeds me, no discrimination my intentions pure but gravity pulls me under once more. Is this merely self-deception sanitizing savage beauty of feeling or is my hungry gaze a beast being consumed by my own longing?

Light and shadows carry me home this tango collision warring presences, salivating interference as foot steps over threshold dropping cloaking, fluidly progressing freeing this bondage of threads from this frame of innate animal core, from my throat uttering oozing in language of sonic syllable turning to bass and drum to match this sub-sonance submerging, throbbing enrapture of senses exploding naked on the floor, my canvas in colours my art in procuring, vision of creating my soul in saturation, demanding in desiring fulfilling for myself as this body writhes and wrestles with potentially twisted subversion of sex and lustful intrusions, submission of guilt and longing to this dominating existence in transforming from elevated dimensions and kundalini current shuddering, eclipse of self in blinding white, stippling inky shadows returning sweet ache and bitter tang circling edges of self reproach and forbidden truth.

© Sylvia Kalina 2025

Image by Ferdinand Studio.

Your Orange Blossom Tongue - Ann Marie Steel

Sing me a sonnet, a love song, a snippet
mend my heart with your long, languid lullabies
those lyrical sweet nothings I can dive into

oscillate to your deft stroke
immerse in your sapphire confection, dawn till dusk
as I teeter on the edge

<quivering>

ready to plunge into the shimmery shallows
the deep abyss of your sanguine passion
that seeps into my soul

<catch me/I’m falling>

and hold me tight, I won’t break

<I’ve already been broken>

watch as I come to you, not the dime-a-dozen kind
but that frenzied type laced with Tupelo honey
which makes my essence

e
x
p
l
o
d
e

in sync to your orange blossom tongue
an aphrodisiac to my soul

peel away my skin, make me burn
strum me like your favorite guitar
I’m throbbing and ready to waltz

<to follow your lead>

© Ann Marie Steel 2025

Image by Ezkol Arnak.

Peripheral - Edward Swafford

One step closer two breaths closing close in
Swivel side shuffles of bedbound catharsis
Catching glossy glimpses of bedroom eyes
Deep hazel hue, so perfect, ineffable iris
Idle hands clutching edges of a sensuality
Square?
Sexuality?
A matter of less matters more or not at all
So long as your saliva coats my sacred
Sheath and my fingers trace their wonted
Way ALL THE WAY as you sway… ASTRAY
My skin blends with your whetted canvas
Of
Watercolors | widening | wading | writhing
An arched back meets a sweat soaked chest
Warming beads of moisture against angelic
Blades
Shoulders tensed in tyro tense, terse lesson
Of “do you trust me?” so nod your head as I
Lash your neck with a temporal tongue and
Clasp your navel, commandeering all the
Bases aces paces graces embraces bracing
B L A Z I N G
Triple the tempo, levitational lovemaking
Defiant gravity bends obtuse laws tonight
For us, as we fuck, your first foray unto my
Evanescent energy ha not the last, fervor
Prepositions positioning a double entendre
Come. With. Me.

© Edward Swafford 2025

Image by Alessandra Shalbe.

Forbid - Shay Brene

Devour forbidden secrets.
Dive into my 
hedonistic intentions.
Never love,
Yet lust.
Kept behind closed doors.
Pinned down,
Spine pressing on the floor.
Anywhere,
I don't care.
Just make it hurt.
Take away the pain.
With each stroke—
My hidden desires,
Unleashed.
I seek nothing more,
Nothing less.
Please, I beg.
Just fuck me!
In between my knees
I feel the heat rise.
Deeper with each plunge
I've become unhinged.
Never to be committed,
To feel trapped and barren,
Empty and shallow.
I fill the void
With intoxicating highs.
But the lows are grueling,
And my mind isn't right.
The temptation,
I cannot overcome.
I need it now!
Shamelessly promiscuous, 
Impermissible and immoral,
Yet nothing matters
When you're staring
At my nudity.
Taste me, kiss me,
But never say you love me
Because all I need
From you is not a connection,
But your body.

© Shay Brene 2025

Image by Cottonbro Studio.

Darkest Days - Joshua Biddle

The white blanket
now ravaged—a victim of conformity,
lay wasted heaped in a corner
of the cellar.

My only comfort in darkness now gone,
fatality to my own vices.
Vanity and greed, and lust—
lust.

The lust found only at a brothel
during midnight hours, where men
prance like packs of outcast lions.
And I alone in my room tonight

Am left with nothing to cover these sins,
the sins of regret and vicarious nature;
sins even misplaced solace
could never cover in its brightest hour.

© Joshua Biddle (Midnight Blue) 2025 - Originally published on Blogspot, and revamped for Seven Sins

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