Wednesday, March 19, 2014

The Russian.


   The Russian.



Smooth,
faultless, sleek as satin,
glides upon the cushion,
fills the room with warmth,
tests the edges of adoration,
builds such desire,
formidable as one great nation.

Healing,
sickness for a maddening world,
light and love beheld as one,
something incredible yet to run,
beating fast a hearts desire,
held for trust,
to explode with love, creating fire.

Animal,
notions of how fun could be,
deep in wells beneath the sea,
shinning for a time still to come,
beheld by this beauty's power,
caught by delight,
to witness how such a love will flower.

Glory,
holding, relaxed and sated,
believing that love is ever solid,
lost in passion to come again,
filled, what never could be whole,
her beauty arrives,
to steal my heart and soul.





The ballerina of love.