Curves

I am describing the allure of my lover's curves.

The allure of her curves calls me from afar, The simple stroke of her lips, the softness and lushness, similar to a cloud floating in the sky, soft as heaven, but charged with ferocious energy capable of striking any second.

The arch of her eyebrows, how she can speak volumes without every uttering a word, such a simple flutter, and sparks begin to fly.

The intensity of her eyes, the eagerness from within, the strength of a giant, the kindness of an angel, the beauty of Venus, pulling me along like a puppet on a string. 

The contour of her shoulder line, the smooth silky skin, the definition of alluring, the sweep on her neck beckons like a lonely lighthouse on a dark stormy shoreline.  The waves crashing, the gods are speaking, adrenaline is racing, the future is unseen, but the lighthouse beckons. 

The sway of her hips, like tall grass of a savannah, waving in the blowing wind, time standing still to watch the symphony, a manifestation of perfection, parading, alluring me closer. 

The wreath of her palms nestled so perfectly in my hands, yet somehow caresses my body seamlessly, soft sensual touches creating an explosion of peacefulness and excitement. 

The crown of her breasts, the enchanting spell placed upon me, the bewitching power of the smallest glimpse, the sweetness of sugar, the kick of pepper, alluring me to draw near.

The circumference of sweet honey dew, the vortex of a storm, passion that can not be controlled, the penetration of heaven, even if only for mere moments.  Her curves beacon me closer, all else is lost, the horizon bends to her will, the compass always pointing to her.