In the crooks of your body, I find my religion.
In the taste of your cunt, I find my salvation.
I worship you with my fingertips.
Hands on your skin, so pale, makes you sing.
I want to fill you, dripping full of my love, gentle yet commanding.
In the wake of my touch, blushed dapples appear,
And dance along my path across your skin.
Your body is a blank canvas, just begging for my art.
Your eyes are closed, lips parted as breathy whimpers abandon you.
You’ve got to know, I love you now, in this light.
How could I not?
If loving you is sin, then reserve my seat in hell.
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