Her words, are like calligraphy
Written in my heart.
If they were inked on my skin,
People would know, that
She is mine, and that
I am hers.
Her touch is like silk,
It’s lightness
Draping over my form,
Covering me with
Embroidered threads,
That glint and shimmer
In the dark.
Her voice is like music,
From the passion of aria,
To the majesty of symphony.
She orchestrates,
My desires.
Tubular bells ring, and
Timpani sound.
Her sex, is like velvet,
Her sheath, magical.
Caressing, grasping, wanting,
Yes, even demanding.
As she rides me,
My soul is in heaven,
My body, in paradise.