Her words, are like calligraphy 

Written in my heart.

If they were inked on my skin,

People would know, that 

She is mine, and that

I am hers. 

Her touch is like silk, 

It’s lightness 

Draping over my form, 

Covering me with 

Embroidered threads,

That glint and shimmer 

In the dark.

Her voice is like music, 

From the passion of aria,

To the majesty of symphony. 

She orchestrates,

My desires.

Tubular bells ring, and

Timpani sound. 

Her sex, is like velvet, 

Her sheath, magical. 

Caressing, grasping, wanting, 

Yes, even demanding.

As she rides me,

My soul is in heaven, 

My body,  in paradise.