I desire the spot
Beneath the breast of her.
Though, her sighs show me to her eyes.
And, I might have abandoned all recognition of her
Were such colors before me
To never greet to me, such scenery.The space below her breast,
The heart of hearts,
The area I do desire to
Penetrate.
For this motion is emptiness,
A mere lost moment.She shows me tresses made of silver threads,
And shoulders sculpted from marble.
There is beauty named as delicacy in this room, so heated,
That I have enjoyed only the few seconds by
To die,
In softest arms, by the firelight.A heart of hearts,
Not the skin for many years.
But, the heart for an eternity
To bask it,
And I desire to kiss it
And forge it anew, in the kingdoms of Heaven.
