She walks on feathers,
Shadows tracing her whispered lies.
Each sway, a stolen glance,
Candles flicker in her eyes.
Silken lips, like twisted dreams,
Breathing honey, nectar's stream.
Leaning slightly, as time forgot to move,
Each curve a rhythm, molded to groove.
She writes her love in molten flow,
Undressing her soul, aching so low.
Caressing her hairs, like midnight breeze,
A touch that begs, yet dares to tease.
Wrapped in cotton, entertaining the night,
Beautifully romantic, a pleasing sight.
What a show, what a dance,
Cutting through heart, at every chance.