Her body is my playground
A wonderland of curves and lines.
Of sweet breasts and urgent nipples.
Of rolling hips and elegant thighs.
Her body is my canvas
A perfect page on which to paint my words,
to daub my prose,
to scratch my spidery, inky, dangerous poetry.
Her body is my church
A hallowed and sacred place
A holy ground on which to worship
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Henry Asencio
I wrote this a year ago. But you might have missed it.