My eyes have feasted on a delicious bounty of curve and contour. These hands how they have ached to follow each one to it's end. Ten desperate digits, longing to follow luscious lines, with each touch plead more. Light and delicate this touch, still it burns like the breath of the mid-day sun. This visage, however, is not where my heart found breath to begin. It was with a simple phrase, this heart, bound by scars and fears of truth, became undone, by a million visions my dreams had yet to see. My heart again could breath in and speak adore. Whisper to me my dream, and set this man free. My love, evermore, be. |