Read her like a book
Rolling hillside curves.
Thighs amber light, backbone bind.
Hooked on her look, light waves of her spine.
Swollen and fertile -her... breasts.
Divine goddess of her porcelain profile.
From beyond, belief, It couldn’t be...
Those innocent eyes, tell me stories like lines...In a poem.
The language of love, that I can now decipher, no cage could.. ever confine her untamable heart.
Outline the constellation of beauty marks.
I could spend- bend time to find her in a thousand lives to map her mind.
To count the universes in her eyes.
To kiss her just one last time.
-Artist on the Edge