Modern Romanticism

Famous charm
of a woman who emits
her light from her flesh,
her brazen attraction
when it is her limbs
thrashing around,
in naked glory.

She sleeps on those sheets,
those that I pulled up
to her nodding chin,
lifting to descend
at each sweet breath.

This bed, for its sight,
without much more
to imagine for,
can hold a lover’s hope
for what can continue
when not one second
ever passes, without her
within view.

This conquered beauty
for everything
that she represents,
will outlast my hunger
in all of its pangs,
when she calls to me,
when she’s inviting me
for pleasure to sing.