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.
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