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Your Bosom, a Dusky Canvas, Kissed by Twilight’s Grace
Your bosom, a dusky canvas, kissed by twilight’s grace,
In my world, a young sun, casting an intimate embrace.
Your breasts, fountains of crimson delight, set my pulse to race,
Defying the heavens, the silken shirt’s gentle lace.
Two idols of ivory, stirred by a tempestuous sea,
I worship these idols, despite the sin that engulfs me.
Unveil your smoldering bosom, let it dance free,
Do not cage the captive flame, the tremor of the mighty tree.
The fire of desire, in your nipples, rages like a wild inferno,
Two orbs filled with wine, flushed by the blood’s fervent flow.
Scorched by a longing that weeps, by a patience that fell low,
Your breasts, wild beasts, under the lamp’s seductive glow.
The light dances on the path of the darkened milk,
As I extend my hand, stealing from the stars’ silk.
The innocent nipple, watching me with a claw of guilt,
Dips its finger in the ink of my blood, as smooth as silk.
