Your stagnant aura, of many aromas,
Puts me beneath you, in a dying dedication,
For I’ve discovered it.
You deserve it,
You have earned it,
A caress upon a wild and entitled
Bosom that shows a gloss.
You were loved by many,
Until the one who will shower you,
With kiss upon kiss.
Allow me to bellow this melody
Upon your idle features,
As I describe what I’ve conquered:
“A lady of pain, who slept away to cry,
Has a herald of agony below herself,
A beauty with tresses like bark from a tree,
Shedding down to where I may see,
The entitled bosom that needs itself to be seen.”
Thrust aside those worn garments,
And offer me the breast for my wielding.
Capture these kisses upon each orb of flesh,
Marriage has caught us in its net,
Its place of pride and wine,
Within a Holy Grail.
I kiss, and I kiss, again,
An entitled bosom,
As your hands reach upward to remove the hair
From my eyes, stained from cries.
And I sigh, to bleed upon an ever-more
Golden ring and golden pride,
Bleeding for a face too adorned in lies.