I spit upon, modesty’s shoulders,
And loosen a strap, from where came a blouse,
A shirt, a camisole, of so many varied names,
A top, and it is let free.
For breasts, to be exposed
Love lies weeping, beneath your blue eyes,
As this magnificence, and joy
Creates thunder in your mind.
My magnificence, as myself,
And the joy, that is you.
I loosen now, the undergarments:
I recite their loss,
As swiftly, as the current wields, thy shape.
“Broken from, a manifested logic,
Blooming outward, from a heart,
Beating with blood, that boils,
All that dies, is love.”
I am now, no longer here, to shield you,
In the private, we are shared,
And I tear away, those undergarments,
Along with a skirt, that was in the way.
Oh, modern vision!
Of a woman, that be comfortable.
Nudity, and my devils,
You are that, as both, nudity and serpent,
I hear your whispers, from a long tongue,
A voice, that comes
From with a heart, bespoken with longing.
As all I see, is a woman, that is bared.
A woman, bared from love,
To be drawn, into lust.
Death, is beneath flesh.
As modesty, encases flesh.
And truth, is molded,
To my shape, and never your own.