Save a man from himself.
Who'd cleave himself and manhood
to the hem of your frock.
Save a man by pointing out his wealth.
Knowing you,
a man cannot help himself.
You'd tell he must watch his speech.
Cannot deny reach.
Come aboard where borders are tenuous.
Bodies vessel mahogany flesh
in the name love.
Pleasant evident.
The rains.
Petals.
Progress.
Curved path.
Pebble and sand.
First kiss.
Significant endeavor
unrestrained.
She fatale I covet.
Speak love time of day.
The diaspora ever built.
The leisure
preservational.
Exceedingly curious.
Damsel a fashion.
Bestial immodest
unmasking.
Determined of acts.
Designate Thursday girl.
Picturesque terrain.
Old photos and merlot.
Epic the depths poets.
Specific act.
Diabolic.
Dream girl on me.
Twists and circle tours.
Ratio of lovers.
Folksy mix.
Vanity cost.
Well together.
All senses, tension.
I'm in the haunt.
Guest room and the darlings.
Pure velvet.
Throw caution from first.
Pride of fete.
Come a tug in earnest.
Surging.
Unbridled impulse.
Goddess.
Kiss for kingdom.
Your wisdom.
Heavenly.
A moment splendor.
Certainty she lie with me.
The sudden.
The vulnerable.
The echo wood and walls.
The tool the ever after.
Happily and striking.
Shoulders a disarm.
Won over in the breach.
The grit she hold
Stalwart.
The flamboyant.
Feminine.
Looking into the beat of felicity.
And she lie sideways.
Her head shelved by her palm.
Swords of skin and bone mahogany
like Katydids.
Long and slender.
Horizon a white line of fine linen.
Back of that.
Well walls the color chianti.
Looking into felicity.
With a quickening pulse made so
by hunger and the rush.
A hero's welcome.
Don't look at him that way Rochelle.
You want him gone Rochelle.
Your skin is onyx.
Your umbra.
True to the black.
Your black heart.
Winter spell.
You covet him.
But you covet his last breath.
In a kiss of death.
Yet mixed with her antipathy is a yen.
You may not have him to covet
if you kill him.
Subject him to condition,
lurking in the black.
The shadows Rochelle.
Once inside her inner tramp takes over.
Low light and just enough
for a space her own.
Greeted by cross wind
west to east.
Open windows and the
door to the portico.
Give her the appearance
walking on air.
A high to die for right then.
He walks heavy on
the back stairs.
Lamb and a pumpkin sun as garnish
fills the air its redolence.
You and I are meant to be.
It's the thought that fills my mind.
If you believe in destiny
wait with me for the right time.
Stretched across the great divide
is the link that binds.
Finding passion beyond our usual.
Within the ecstasy lined walls.
Hearing your call across the great expanse
you find me in the palm of your hands.
If answered prayers be
the indication of dreams,
God provide the means.
