The veils of a woman are many,
a forest talking,
all shapes and forms of life,
beneath the rocks and soil
spiders webs and birds.
I wrapped an egg to carry
until that time
when you take me as is
to do as you please.
Cum-dripping off my lips
or a hand to hold ;
I'll do the laundry and dishes
if you take me home.
Her curse'n blessings are all
like fruits
some are eaten raw, deliciously
others needs preparation
cold-hearted, yet warm hands
Bimbo for an easter bunny
but it's every night,
I'm so very girly and slutty
but also a man.
So delicate is my poetry
and so brutal too ;
for the entire spectrum
of sensualities.
Yet, think not like it's dinner,
but a tree
from which all things are built
the hearth of the home
is her happiness and sorrows.
It's not a five minute deal
i'm like a candle
which burns, burns as pure
as snowhite snow.
Pour it on my skin and light
an even brighter
blue-lit flame doeth rise
all desires I am now.
Let her be the spirit guide
and you the wings
which takes flight through life
together all is possible
if but entwined hand in hand.
Mistake it not - I am a man
but so tender, tight
for I love the female form
in a manly way.
It is as a man wears trousers
but i'm in strings
bit of a cake slut too but
I don't like the crust.
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