My Dear:

Chalking up all the times we lost ourselves in youth, so divine. The reckless hours that get devoured by a conscious gone sour. I can breath you in my hair. Each turn of my features, angled in disguise. You are mine. Together, so fine. my sweet lullaby, curled around your succulent thighs. I sigh, just to inhale in your feminine essence, a convalescence to your hungry cries. It's the way I've been transfixed by the witch that speaks with your honey lips. Cloaked in your gaze, to make this mortal woman but a slave. On raw crimson knees, I plead. Please, my eyes read.