I wanna please her more

Than I want to dress her in precious threads,

Spun by holy hands.

More than even I need to hold those

Knees to her chest,

Our bodies pressed…

Both at play, and at heavenly rest.

Against the dimming

Moonlight canvas,

I don’t believe she is real.

Sorcery-born Automaton,

She shines like the dawn

Through the eyelash canopy

That lowers over my

Own dim sky.

Every. Last. Piece.

Of her precious love,

Uniquely divine.

How many nights

I would reach into fantasy.

How many nights

I reveled in her mystery.

It’s not too much,

To call her

The best thing. For me.

Where was misery

She offers hope.

Where was loneliness,

She fills all my cups

With kindness.

And we relate

On the deepest level.

She is my flowering forest.

I explore

Every. Corner.

Griffins nest

In her hills.

Her gardens are tended

By humorous Sprites.

I am her Champion.

She calls me Orion.

I stalk lions

In her

Perilous Wilderness.

I am humbled under

Her constellations…

And I’m not ashamed.

My Goddess

Gives me her everything,


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