Modern Romanticism

Long lashing locks,
Run with the fertile winds,
As your ivory back
Has a path for me to track
Myself, to your neck.

Where I plant a kiss
Upon your velvet flesh
Has me speaking a prayer
To the energies of Christ
That I might take myself high
With you, upon the gusting sigh.

You are as the moon,
Both of skin in delicate bloom,
Among your eyes
Like leaves resting upon milk.
All is relieving in such silk.

You, the woman
With arms for the sea's caress,
Has me undress
You, to the barest bone.
Your eyes, a clash of hazel
Against the blush formed to your cheeks,
Falters my knees to be weak.

Enchant me,
Disenchant me,
Love me,
Or loathe me
For admiring the sculpture of womanhood,
The laced back that holds plenty
The world's sundering cries.

Shoulders that bare the flesh,
Breasts that bare the sustenance
To a babe's plunder.

Eyes that speak quietly to death,
Words that rend apart the absence
To a heart's thunder.