Locked behind bones wrapped in brocade
an indelicate escape plea
screaming inward for a reply.
This bustle will surely outgrow
the short lived modesty debut.
One could claim you're on a crusade
offending nobles in a spree
until it's protests can outcry,
overpower, your own deep woe -
setting you down, trapping anew.
Perhaps you'll set to work, or trade
Or marry yourself a marquis.
Resolve your fate with one more lie:
he undressed you patiently slow
then treats you as more than a screw
Against the cool of your skin
Is the beckoning of touch,
Ringing crystalline droplets
Glistening trails on curves
That plead for caresses.
Anticipatory surface tension
Tested against lingering traces
Until ever so slightly vibrating
In a sweet longing response.
Suspense is broken by desire
For a full bodied, sweet taste.
Thirstily savouring the flavour,
Sun kissed, warmed in hand
And held in a divine vessel
She lacks symmetry.
In the curve of the looking glass
Deliberate in naivety.
Her melody chants emptily
Constricting her harmony to base notes:
Rooted and diatonic
Yet obliquely tuned, off key.
She reflects with the clarity
That only the distorted can:
Off-balance and perfectly malformed.
In the eye of creation
She’s a falsified sequence
Sat between design and serendipity.
A constellation unmapped
For her rising suns are only set
And her moons are drowned
In the tides they made.
There’s no happenstance here,
To her, existence is a gift.
The opportunity to remould
The kinetic sand in which she swims
So it may smooth the surface
To form a meretricious shine.
Beneath the moon-drop eve he waits,
Watching time drift past his brow,
Whilst the owl twittered in the ferns,
And the sparrows nestled in the twigs,
And the cold wind wisps wild 'round the willows,
T'wards the twisted taverns of town,
So he waits past the sunset,
Waiting for the angel of his hearts desire.
He waits for the girl of god,
With rich brown locks draped over
Her petite and delicate face,
With silken, glossy skin that's laid
Perfectly over her womanly curves.
Fine satin flows over her form,
Crested gold sits upon her hair,
Crowning her with the first woman's halo.