‪The beauty of innuendo is that as long as you don't try and force it, it will always fit wherever you like. Just make sure there is consent.‬

She is fire. She is gold.
She is the stories left untold.
She is lightning striking wood,
The chaos in chaotic good.

She is the sore, red raw of slaps,
The echo of thunderstorm claps,
The blast of air on winter's days,
The salt-crazed fury of ocean sprays,

The pulsing radiance of suns,
The heated smoke from fired guns,
The steamy sweat from summer ***,
The magic of a witch's hex,

The sweet and sour tears of sadness -
Beautiful madness

They travelled the world together to expand their minds and live fulfilling lives. Today they return to discover - they have learnt nothing.

She swears in multiple languages.
But in such an adorable way.
While I just sit there stunned by beauty
Without knowing what the **** to say

She walks in beauty, like the night
     Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
     Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
     Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
     Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
     Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
     How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
     So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
     But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
     A heart whose love is innocent!