Angel with Clipped Wings

Your legs are strong    
like two unveiled Greek pillars    
from which we carve the shapeliness of your tight body sculpture.    
Your breasts are firm like modest spring apples    
in which I indulge when I bite into your blushing red flesh.    
You are easily excited. You smile like the sun    
and tickle the hearts of those that love you.    
Did you even mean to be beautiful?    
No, you just woke up this way,    
and I was made your first mirror,    
and when I was pleased,    
you saw your Indian locks straighten in the rounds of my pupils.    
Then, you shared your energy with me    
and poured into my throat love through a kiss,    
and I opened my eyes and knew that heaven had taste and smell and texture    
right between my unworthy hands.    
     
I don't know   
how you can train and sweat and still smell so clean,    
and maybe it's just that I am dirty minded    
because every little thing connected to your actions    
is aestheticism.    
This is the purest and most alive that I've ever been.    
     
Your smooth abdomen is a nocturnal creek with a moon in the center.    
You let my fingers walk on the water's surface    
like a holy man.    
You give me a righteousness      
that only those who know love with a female homo sapien sapien can have.    
     
There are stars in your hands,    
and I try to grab the stars in the sky sometimes,    
so that the most magnificent existences won't be so lonely,    
and I find my vision locked with the eyes of your sky.    
I love you.    
     
Gravity makes the petals fall,    
but your hair flows and dresses the gravity,    
so that it is not so sickly    
to be chained to the earth    
because you are here!    
Angel, you clipped your wings    
when you saw a man hoeing at the ground all alone,    
and I bet that he wandered,    
"What kind of butterfly walks on two feet?    
What kind of flower grows from the heavens?"    
I don't know.    
I still can't answer those questions.    
I just know that the blue sky is brighter when I see you beneath it,    
and you hold me close    
and trap me between your breasts    
like you think that I might go.    
I don't know why you hold me like tomorrow I'll be gone forever.    
Who would leave someone so heavenly    
sitting on her knees    
crying      
when heaven is inside her    
expanding with her every breath    
and closing its gates with each easy suspire?    
I will rush in    
while the gates are still open,    
and you are choosing me to give your love to.    
Possess me. Arrest me. Molest me    
because I see nothing wrong with you!    
     
I am just dancing in the garden of your wild lily bloom,    
and I'm painting them red    
with a passionate stroking.    
Your body is blushing.    
I fall on top of the body of lilies,    
and then they come to burry me.    
I fall down; they rise up.    
I get up and fall down, and they fall down beneath me,    
then rise.    
You rise,    
and even a man should be submissive    
when he meets a woman's lovely soul    
inside the flesh and pelvic bone    
he loves    
to hold.