Euphimistic Rain
by bluedolphin ©

Her metaphoric muse
finds words sky clad
from wicked embers
and heavens hue.

She tongue grinds words
like cock to cunt
stolen from soiled smithy,
leaving her perfectly clean
pages of moist imagination,
creaseless.
Sir Night
by  bluedolphin


An invitation from between
his nocturnal sheets, beacons
her into his rhythmic haven
dissolving hours of mundane...

Passively she watches as
he unlaces her Stevie Nicks gypsy
boots,
unbuttons her bedraggled bodice,
and emancipates her bound mane,
once defiled by plebeian dust,
and wraps scented palms
around luscious soft angles
of her of abundant lust.

As her servant he indulges
her drained body,
swathing its musky odor
with a butterfly tongue,
liberating her from loveless grime
beyond requisite portals
of images sublime,
and riding him high,
she's a gypsy queen one more time.  
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