strewn upon this bed are we
and that is how I shall forever see
shimmering gems of brown identity
along your body run the streams of time
slowly, I trace your outline
from head to toe
your touch is enough to sew together
internal feelings I cannot eschew
I stir, I plot, I seek a view
parting of lips force one to two.
Pound at my keys,
I am your harpsichord,
sounds sharper than the sword,
upon your mantel I shall rest
and the world I detest
until, again, I can invest
in carrying out your behest.
You witch--you siren--
coaxing me into oblivion;
under your spell, I have no decision,
but pursue your passion with precision;
enchanted, I am, by your beauty and poise
alchemise a lust potion--no!
your philtre bringeth pure devotion.
Here be we,
a genius of sweet alchemy,
and a man of great cacophony.
~Hansel und Grettle.
Love,
Digress.
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