Thy heart is the parchment upon

Which I burn these words of lust with the quill of passion

Each cloud-like touch of mine,

Dies to explore every inch of thy sacred valleys and holy arches

If I had a dying wish,

It would be to stare into thy eyes and taste thy sugared lips,

Before bathing in your sweet scent

I stand before you.

Thy humble servant seeks only to please thy royal satin flesh and silky skin