My Dear let me read this poem of beauty

My Dear let me read this poem of beauty



If I was to read for you
Of a poem of beauty, as only few words could show.
Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body.
A whisper of grace and elegance, without noise of gaudy!

Seeing her breast cupped; stretching the stitches of her blouse.
As if swollen with milk, my flame only her water could douse.
Lingers of secluded comfort like a forest cottage house?
My fingers warm between her soft cleavages, like a hiding mouse.

Her nipples harden from my whispers in the air.
As her body heats up, her sweat gives off a scent so rare.
Undress her body, sounds of her clothes as they tear.
Like electric musical notes, rise from her body like hair.
No other woman has ever had a skin so fair.
Like a roses petals, no other flower could compare.
Taunting Eden's apple as if to rival a pear!

See her sway her thighs and hips.
Like the rose in the wind, petals swell from the tips.
Softest leather feel, back arched like a crack from the whip.
Long smooth legs, like a mast of a ship.
And the rain on her sails, taste of honey to lips.

Arms are like shields, rose's petal points lifted.
The touch of fingers, ten angel pianists, a heavenly gift!
Easily make a man's emotions feel shifted.
Dancing in the mind of every man dream has drifted.

Those smooth long legs spread like the wings of a flyer.
Inner thighs speak a truth that would mute a liar.
And drip sweet smelling nectar that excites a man's desires.
Like an addictive drug, that makes him only want to get higher.

Her smooth bottled neck, over her soft shoulders.
That holds a face of beauty, eyed in all beholders.
A rose lost in the forest, graceful, triumphant, and wild.
Enchanted mystic youth pretty, majestic, like a fairy's child?

Beautiful arms even Hercules could not grace.
Like two pythons, leave a man breathless in embrace.
And the pressure they do impart,
Have the power to forever imprison your lover in your heart.

I could never forget her sweet smelling perfumed hair.
Blowing in the air as of God's winds, were trying to stare.
Her eyes which contact made you froze
Puts you in a spell that makes you swear that you were chosen.
Trapped in fleeting notions!
As her lips tasting of Lover’s potions?

If I was to read for you
Of a poem of beauty, as only few words could show.
Like Picasso as a writer, let me paint your body.
A whisper of grace and elegance without noise of gaudy!


By nutbuster