Graceful, daunting beauty.
Always appearing angellically armed.
Blessed is the flesh that does not parish at your touch.
I hold you close, even though i shed tears of darkest titillating red.
You are a lover of romance, timeless and vain.
Your purpose, always unclear to me.
I have these urges, seeing you, glowing with the evening's fresh dew.
Gift of symbolism, more than what you seem.
Symbolically establishing those sensual capabilities.
Waiting alone upon the stoop of my home.
Invite you up for a primal compromise of more than what's right.
I bond with the lust in your eyes.
Already i dampen, as i hold you, bleeding, in my arms.
Your many blushing petals seem to awaken certain obligations.
The aroma of love, romance, desire.
Fresh and pungent upon the silken lips of your muted blossom.
Your secretion of the intense warmth in me.
Risen and responsive.
You, the drenched rose in my arms, kindling feelings of release.
You effloresce in my hands.
Blooming and nude.
Your secret budded fruit, heated and inclined.
Ripe with the understanding of physical love.
Lost defenses, shaken and drained.
Smoldering sparks burning deep inside your core.
Dripping with the cream of a paradox like situation to some.
Your evocative curvature, inspiring and divulging.
I await your driving, dreamy drink.
I wish you to devour my being with your grace and your beauty.
With you i am fluent and flavorful and wet.
A radiance so pure and unlike any i have ever known.
You walk away, leaving my blood boiling.
Sometimes i wonder if you ever really existed.
So i dream of what our next encounter could mean.