No matter my art upon darkest of hearts
Or shield wickedest of torrents shy,
My eyes will guide thy graceful glide
Far from my deadly abhor.
For delicate lace upon wild grace
Is none richer to dead implore,
Night alleys forever melancholic by name
Seven roses have wilted, amen.
Would you glide under me
If I told you how tremendous your advantage was?
Gently laying your hands
Upon my aggressive hips
Digging deeper for anticipated passion
Rustling night air with sensuality
Do you like the way music
Catches hold of our souls and ignites fire
Hidden sublimely in the embers?
There is a saturation point
Where sight isn’t relevant
Eyelids gently shut and
Eyes rolled to the sky
Toes curling in an arching kind of way
Just like the small of your back would feel
If I were to encourage you
To glide under the touch of
My well trained hands
Like a man as a lover should
Exciting elaborence of twisted tangles
Following the rivers of nostalgia and indulgence
Tampering the side effects of sickening reverence
Slide. Slide with it and glide.
Divine, prosper and prophecize with siblings
Ranting and raving at disgruntled earthlings
Disgusted with the forgotten underlings
Roll. Roll with it and glide.
Take your time and flick the coward
Maybe the disturbance will move forward
Laughing and following and lack of regard
Heavy. Heavy with it and glide