The stillness of her sentiment is something unfathomably beautiful. An angel closes her eyes and is immersed in the rapture of deeply intimate thoughts, her head slightly tilted to the side — her hair draped gracefully like the branches and leaves of weeping willow trees nestled in the rapture of a spring breeze set over a peaceful stream that flows endlessly in wondrous dreams. Black silk rests on her feminine curves like snowcapped mountains graced with light snow undisturbed. Her spirit animal is the Crowned Eagle, soaring to that celestial place in the company of thousands of white winged angels. To look upon her and see only outer beauty is to see the surface of the sea but never dive into its depths to explore its prodigious mystery. She transcends in tranquility. The essence of who she is, is displayed silently. Gaze upon her glory; yes, gaze upon a woman who wept constantly but found her victory. See in her what others couldn’t see — close yours eyes, and breathe deeply. Dream with her; witness the gorgeous illustrations of her soul. View the writings of her heart where falling tears narrated the biography of her sorrow. See that she is truly beautiful. See that she is truly beautiful.
Heaven crowned her with whirlwinds of fire
Her mysterious eyes hide the depths of her like black water
Her nose is sculptured perfectly
Her lips are the softness of sensual beauty
The curvy contours of her breasts accentuate her bold femininity
Under twilight she is a shimmering mystery
The utterances of her are sweet poetry
Beautiful laughter is the euphoria of her
Her stiletto heels conquer and leave blood on the dance floor
She stalks the night gracefully in black lace embroidery
The middle of her back is a stream running through a deep valley
Hoop earrings drape through red secrecy beautifully
Do eyes not fall upon her femininity and marvel?
In her movements, is she not graceful?
When the sunlight highlights the strands of her hair
is she not an angel?
Are the depths of her heart not wonderful?
Are her kisses not passionate and sensual?
Is the essence of all that she is not beautiful?
Euphoric flesh is wonderfully graced with black lace. Sensual contours are held tightly within an embroidered embrace. Light sprays of floral perfume add to beautiful perfection. Lace against the skin feels heavenly, and it is aesthetically pleasing. Black lace accentuates the wondrous femininity of a woman. Gaze upon her thoughtfully, and contemplate the erotic origin of her sexual expression. Embroidered darkness holds her body in sweet caress — she exudes confidence; she is the embodiment of sexiness. Lace that inadvertently brushes against the erect nipples of her breasts cause her to be wet; the natural lubricant of her desire permeates the black embroidery that is between her legs, but the dark material holds her secret. The contrast of black lace against her skin is akin to a rare majestic painting; under pink satin sheets it becomes even more amazing.
In my sorrow, do not ridicule me. Do not seek to question my heart’s sincerity. Do tears not run in mourning? Do I not keep her nestled in the depths of my soul for safe keeping? Am I not desolate in my grieving? Do my own tears not drown me from incessant weeping? Did I not kiss her face tenderly while she was sleeping? The glory of her beauty haunts me unmercifully — and to think love was within my grasp. Eyes behold my countenance as a whole man, because daily I wear the mask; but truthfully, I am deeply wounded and shattered like glass. I seek to be whole again, but every hour I am violently torn asunder again and again, and I am shattered like glass.
The sun falls gracefully upon her shimmering skin, and I am in awe of an angel.
The space between the anticipation of a passionate kiss creates its own energy that brings healing with the touch of loving lips. The sun shines on them as if acknowledging that true love has given birth again. They are committed to each other until the end. They are lovers. They are friends. The beauty of her feminine aura only the heavenly hosts could describe. She is a mortal, born of a miracle with an ethereal nature that abides. With every kiss they feel even more alive. Her lips are the taste of raw honey and the softness of them, like ten thousand rose petals covering freshly cut fescue in the fall. She brings him a nurturing only a woman could bring. Her breath, the sweet savor of freshly cut mint leaves in lemongrass tea sweetened with raw brown sugar. Her hair, the winding of a mighty river. The contours of her neck are subtly sexy; the curvature of her breasts embody the womanhood of her feminine beauty. Her lover places his hands upon her with gentle lovingness, expressing his feelings to her without words, telling her that he truly loves her without cliché sentiments or meaningless utterances that drown in the seas of unimportance. There is a sense of belonging in them that draw them close to each other. She glows more brightly than usual because unbeknownst to her, there is a life the dwells within her. With illuminated wings, and a halo of seven stars she will deliver. The agony of her labor will be temporary and she will shine even more brightly in the hours close to her maternity. They will be all connected eternally. The energy of a passionate kiss led to the creation of a new life within her, but they will never lose their sensual fire. They will never lose that beautiful anticipation right before an erotic kiss is given. With every touch they reinvent their passion again and again. They have cried together, and immense love is their constant shelter. They have held hands and walked through fire together. They have defeated the potent corrosion of uncertainty and second guessing. He abides in her and she in him. It is truly amazing, the beautiful healing that comes with passionate kissing — the way it can take away the pain and the cares of the world and place love in its proper perspective. If only one could hear the beautiful whispers that are spoken before kissing. The body is relaxed and tingling because it is a familiar euphoric feeling. Kissing leads to licking, and moaning, and erotic screams from deep penetration. They say there are eight wonders, but nothing is akin to the mystery of a woman. Nothing. There are many beautiful things in this world, but a woman’s beauty trumps all of them. To fall into her embrace is to fall into a place of love and nurturing. To touch her face, is to touch the most beautiful thing the creator ever made. To have her love, is to have something invaluable and sacred. To betray her love, is to cast a rare diamond into an ocean where it could never be found again. To think of her only in sexual terms is to be exceedingly foolish in ignoring her intellect and the beauty of her totality. For a man to not take his time and learn the pleasurable reactions of a woman’s body is to risk her dissatisfaction in eroticism and love making. To not acknowledge the length and beauty of her hair is to ignore what the creator has given to her for a covering. There is a subtle sensuality in the beauty of a woman’s feet that is missed regularly. An ankle bracelet and pedicured toes in stiletto mules can drive a man to lose himself in the pleasuring of a woman in any and everyway possible. From the sweetness of an impassioned kiss, the mouth travels lower and lower until it finds the essence of longing that is wondrous wetness — but still, it is the taste and softness of the lips. It is the taste and softness of the lips.
Black silk drapes atop radiant skin,
flowing over beautiful slopes and sensual mountains;
Amazingly, she poses perfectly with
an otherworldly aura of beauty; her hair pinned.
Loose strands rest against her face as if
holding the rays of the sun in a loving embrace.
Her lips are honey; her eyes, an ethereal gaze.
For so long, I dreamt about your love and caressed your face in beautiful imagery. You are gorgeous, but I searched for the inner parts of your aura that others couldn’t see. I confess sincerely, that when I first saw you my soul loved you, and I wanted your heart to belong to me. My heart kept you safe in a secret place and whispered sentiments that words could never adequately convey — now here we are, face to face, kissing each other passionately and lost in each other’s embrace. The tone of your shimmering skin contrasts beautifully against white lace. Let me say expressly, that I love you deeply and endlessly; the fire in me that burns for you burns brightly and can never be quenched. The intimacy we share is like the aura of ethereal air. When you smile, I am happy, soaring high in clear skies above rivers, mountains, and valleys; your loving touch takes me to a place of serenity. You are a woman among women, a passionate lover, a friend like no other, and the embodiment of transcendent love. Secretly, your affection moves me to tears, but I can’t hide my emotions from beautiful eyes that truly see. I had already swore vows to you through the depths of my heart, but here and now, I pledge to you verbally to always love you, safely keep you, and through storms, fire, and deep waters shelter you — and keep my sensual fire, and make love to you intensely because you are the woman of my intimate desire. Let us now kiss each other deeply in the company of our beloved ones, with white gardenias, burgundy roses, and bougainvillea magenta glory at their boundary. I make these intimate confessions to you, in love and sincerity.