Horrific sound of whispers,
Altercation of the Eden,
Molasses of your kiss,
Zealot for your touch!
Am I ready now?

Oh, so in love am I
That the breath of heaven
Hits upon my back.
It whispers through
The arid air
with secrets in between,
“You may not
Touch his lips,  
For they have been
Cursed with divinity”

No! No! No!
How, so divine they are?
“Indeed, my son,
They lie amongst
The golden statues
Of your gods”

Oh, so divide they are.
Can’t I taste?
Can’t I gaze?
Allow me my love,
At last, at last.