Constanza
Your body is my sacred shrine
Its pilgrims are my seeking hands
My hungry lips traverse these lands
I worship you as though divine
No sacrifice I count as great
My only vow, your heart to sate
On lips, I spill my sweetest wine
The taste I take in burning kiss
You bless me with the touch of bliss
My fruit is yours on which to dine
I offer you the richest fare
My soul’s disrobed, my body bare
Our union mirrors the sublime
The galaxies explode in praise
This sacrament, we’ll keep always
Your body is my scared shrine
I worship you as though divine
On lips, I spill my sweetest wine
My fruit is yours on which to dine
Our union mirrors the sublime
For Craig's Constanza Contest
November 18, 2017
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2017
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