Secret chamber door

Its never hard to find her throbbing, olive-shaped polar star
twlinking in stasis, under her rich pomegranate dress
fiery hells embers, i blew upon her cooling firing auburn coals...
and she lit up ,with her shadow clawing, scratching the walls

I could tell you what happened, her breasts held and laden
i wish you could implore when i unlocked her secret chamber door
but i will only tell you this, and nothing more
my tongue gliding upon her skins surface, fragile alabaster burning
i wish you could implore, when i unlocked her secret chamber door
but i will only tell you this, and nothing more

I could tell that my thick meat, neither wished for or wanted
her myth is ovespilling forbidden lore, when i graced the enterance to her secret chamber door,
but i will only tell you this, and nothing more,
i tried to cool her heated fernace, though her hands guided me with purpose,
this was the time that i would implore, that she wanted me to unlock her secret chamber door,
but i can only tell you this, and nothing more

My seraph beseeched, with that look in her eye, fuck me, bite me, i want to feel you inside,
the fabric of diginity has been torn, though i like it, roaming towards her secret chamber door
if only i could tell you more, this is our little secret, i tell you this and nothing more,
pure angelic countenance erupted to orgasmic hard-candy kisses,
once i was unstable and forlorn, now a smirk it all that is worn,
when i spread her velvet curtains to reveal her secret chamber door
though this is a secret, i will only tell you this, and nothing more

Only in the imagination, is the forbideen fruit picked with patience,
if only you could hear, feel, touch and taste, when i would slowly penetrate,
that the pupils beset in her green eyes, would start to contract then would quickly dilate,
'cause the swinging blues of the stars, the light stretched wide and far,
filling atmospheric moon light inside, occupying every space, in iridescent colours and the spectrum undoubtedly would defy, the rocking chandlier, the prismatic ice,
caught in her death roll, helpless in her flow of her undertow.