Utopia itself could never be comparable to the world I float to as you rise within,
Nor would Pandoras box be strong enough to hold the eclipse,
Of my moon as you make your sun my biggest sin.
Temples hear powerful ancient prayers, I listen as your whispers feel angelic,
My chalice open to your blessing, a vial to be filled and spilled,
Not left to dust as discarded relic.
The firmaments give forth winds and light, swaying oceans of azure, deserts wild and hot,
Heavenly though is the touch of skin upon skin, lip to hip,
A sensation which no other earthly creature to me has begot.
An abyss has an unfathomable bottom akin to the pool we create as our liquors melt,
Tumultuous, tempestuous your physicality becomes me,
And echoing time upon time, I reach a pinnacle like never before felt.
A tempest can rage with energy so vast, a dirvish in an open mind while my head spins,
Blood flows like burning river and heart thumps like thunder,
Ebbed forward by erogenous waves as repeated orgasm wins.
