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.
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