To what I see,
Behind the curtain, eyes seem to glow
As the roses atop the motioning sea.
Love is aflame in her face,
Beauty has draped itself over
With a curtain, to blind me to see,
Nipples as garnets atop porcelain flesh,
Breasts as the hanging tears, raining from beneath
Her treasured gaze.
What a blaze atop her form, smothered by the curtain!
Though, to her eyes,
There is the music of yearning
For me, and for me to see, in the quietest journey
Across her sculpted form.
Lust has taken its shape, beside me on the edge of the world.
Love has placed itself atop a shelf, as memories for me to read.