Waves of Grace

Socially unacceptable. Erotically beautiful With eyes laced In onyx requiem. Her eyes resemble her name That reflect Amber waves of grace. Eyes of a predator That the children are compelled to feed. Her lips are like the red tulip She pressed into my hand. Silky pillows That press against my own. Oh! And she is warm Like the sun's rays on an August morning. I could surround myself in this heat That radiates from her soul. Her hair is black and soft. Close to her head As if to resemble A boy. She is soul and love And all emotions. Yet I am compelled To deny my own In order to call her by this name. Baby.