a soothing kind of pressure
forced between her legs,
weakens her hips and
drains her breath;
is it the aesthetic beauty
espied in that poetry,
that lies effortlessly
between those
marble pillars,
which keeps the
lustful souls allured;
does it seek knowledge
from these words, or
does it ravage unconsciously
probing only narcissistic delectation.
whatsoever the rationale,
she remains negligent,
as lust pounds through
endlessly, at her soul.
- k y r v t
