I saw her again this very night
Between the books written by moonlight.
Her form, not perfect but original, like sin,
Strewn on my bed with pearls entwined,
With her parted red lips, like auroral bonfires.
I see that space between her heart and mind
For that is where the feral desires obey
the soft command of each other’s truth.
As we kiss each others vulnerable scars,
We learn each others deepest needs,
We share in the seduction of each others heart
And we begin to live, in the gift of abundance
