She is the frozen gust
That drags me away from despair
Crowned in leagues of jet black
Shimmering carefree down her spine

My ills swiftly dissipate
As the curtains are drawn for desperation
My worrisome anxiousness is torn up from my body
As we align our wretched frames
Clasp our hands, and fall victim to slumber

She is the mystic gust
That parts my mind from despair
The luminous wonder at my hallways edge
That dwells at the close of my bleakest reveries

Her sharp eyes
Ravage me in toil
Lingering the queen matriarch
Beckoning from beneath the pages
Desire calls out
As I pace softly upon this barren wilderness
Slaving for her astonishment
For her sharp eyes,
To grace me, just once more

Unlock paradise
In a perfect serene kiss
With warmth rising to our hair follicles
Our hands still clasped
We arise from the sheets
To conquer the light for our romantic display

She is the rejuvenating gust
That pries my heart from despair
The thriving voice, in the back of my skull
Faint, resonant, all fulfilling

When Luna dips behind the sun
My lost prayers, flock with hers
Awaiting, to reconquer my entirety
Deep inside the refuge of nightfall
Sharp eyes, painted a lustful black
Shall lay waste to all anxiousness and strife
And instill the tranquility, squandered long ago

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