She Who Makes Love To Me

Such a lovely ebony woman so deserved to be loved more precious than rubies she is mentioned in Proverbs when she kisses me and smiles clouds darken the skies of her eyes her fragrant breasts become a garden After such tender mercies are offered where myrtle bloomed red and spikenard white quivering in the ruins of our pleasure where bounteous kisses ran amok distant groans where whirlwind struck whispering moans of joy and anguish caressing the russets of our blushes we are docile, drooping weak as a leaf Lost in the sweet feelings of gratefulness of making love and the zeal to please she who knows how to sway mercy from disdain she who aggravates or sweetens my chains mesmerizing me during sad or tranquil hours increasing my affections with her indifference she who holds the authority and the power to keep account of my joys, my love, and my pain