Whatever it may be that sets my chest aflame with a whole desire, lay within the confine of your deep, beautiful form.

It rings, it rings!

How I long!  How I long!  How long have I longed for this?  How long have I wished to be realized as some feminine form?  How long have I silently wondered on my own time?  

Simply, I haven’t.  Simply, it is you.  Simply, I must be your woman, for you birthed that which is: this woman.  
You: You have brought me to my womanly purpose.  You have brought me to the radiance, which lingers in the eye of every loved mother.

It rings, it rings!

Whatever it may be that sends me to my knees in admiration,
That shakes me with such force,
That brings me to this earth- that rises and falls with your breath.

How I will be your metronome,
Your ageless home,
Your careful host,
And Honest Wife.

It rings, it rings!  

Whatever it may be that leaves my hands in locking, longing for your sweet taste astounds me within some crevice of this mind:
Where I find myself beneath your greatness,
Where I find myself kissing each stretch of skin,
And crying to you:  

Oh, my love, how I long!  How I long!
How I desire to be pressed, fermented,
And enjoyed over ice…
How I will sweat and gain moisture: I will be the condensation dripping desperately down your wine glass.