How I miss the days
Of caressing your beauty,
My fine teeth stroking
Each of your silky hairs.
Every massage never in vain;
My attention as firm as a diamond
In those splendid times of glory.
Now you lust for other combs
And they grant pleasure in return;
But who can blame them?
Can't they see the divine allurement
You oh so naturally possess?
Blindness itself cannot obstruct such
God given grace from wanting eyes.
Befor I retire
In my poem of praise,
I will leave your conscience
A final message.
No matter where you go,
Or how many forevers you are gone;
I will always love and cherish you
More than God himself.
Whether you are blonde, brunette,
And everything in between;
My desire for you will never
So I sit here on this ebony dresser
Full of icy loneliness,
Waiting, even past the day I die
To live to see our souls meet once more.
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