Oh what a pretty young devil was she,
all wrapped up and veiled from the wicked world:
Beauty defined through grace of air and pleasant preservation.
Like the conservative conversations about bedroom intimacy
that spark new interest in their own private closed door liberalism.
Ravishing in her little black dress, handcuffs hung from her belt,
I saw the hunger in her eyes, a voiced opinion through mutual understanding.
The moment, in all its match-flame shelf-life, burned a bright passion red.
Then came the serenity of a beating heart
Displayed in still-life, and illuminated by the candlelight of ember love.
Pressed to my chest, the thump-thump of hers and mine did sync
with the purr of the fan, and the low panting of lovers so humane.
Bed sheets hued wedding-dress white, a satirically insane domain
for the helplessly hopelessly in love.
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Submission Name: Who Knew Sweet Dreams Could Be So Bad?
