The Lonely One

 
She’s traveling at the speed of bliss,
Past time and space in the vast expanse,
Short of breath within her great abyss,
That she rhythmically writhes in dance.
Awestricken in idyllic affliction,
With sensations that are beyond compare,
She accelerates to a poignant friction,
To an end that only belongs to her.
She’s soaring in the wings of desire,
Alone yet full of grace and delight,
The beautiful agony we admire,
Is a commotion that lets her take flight.
She’s wicked and innocent all at once,
Naughty for the pleasure partaking,
Keen on knowing what she likes and wants,
But in need to satisfy the aching.
She’s mischievous yet somewhat naïve,
Always aware of her longing and yearning,
Awakened like one wouldn’t believe,
For the stirring inside that is churning.
She’s so aroused and charmed at the start,
Like liquid dreams about to take shape,
Her imaginations are hypnotic art,
That at the end they come alive and escape.
She delves into love with enthusiasm,
By herself like no one else will do,
Culminating with the greatest of spasms,
Undone, the lonely one comes through.