The Infatuated

Her scarlet lips, cloyingly sweet.
Putty white skin, soft and plush.
You worship her lips, her eyes, her cotton hair.
You kneel before her gazelles, her hills, her glistening dew.

She smites you dry,
At times so hard
You struggled to even breathe.
Its her way of letting you in.

You pray and She listens.
She digs them out
and plants them in the open
Its her way of exorcising your demons.

And her smile washes away the sins,
The bastard liquid she offers him life.
Drink my mead, she says, and so he did.

He sacrificed more than his eye,
To learn to love to cry.