Blossoming cheeks;
sweet flower kisses,
and butterfly hints,
of wings flaring careless words on lips.
The space of heaven;
between those two stars,
of both day and night,
And with devilish thick
structured thighs;
there's a resting lust in between.
None of which,
I dare open the gates as wide.
Bare chest; full of development,
and a warmth to my resting head.
Fast asleep on the pillows;
and silk smooth skin, as matching sheets.
Bellowing down the centre;
to a circle within a circle.
As with the precious silver of a belly ring.
Dark as the night without stars;
flowing downstream; is her fine hair.
Covering a neck of amber;
scented in perfumes of a spring's desire.
And a shape biteable by first eyes;
as with the passions of a bodied pear.
Towards a great sized past;
and truly a large behind.
A middle line of strong metal,
as love's swordlike spine.
Tanned leather,
running young of two calves.
And the heels that strut the purest intentions;
of the feet of doves.
Perfect is a stranger;
but still a stranger on their own.
Never to have met,
perhaps of my descriptions,
the individual would show.
