Heart of stone

They only know your fortress, which you
built with the heart you turned into stone.
They only know the words you shoot like
arrowed weapons, that pierce through them.
They only know the armored thoughts,
that shield you like a forest of thorns,
but only I know the slender slide of your
shoulders and how every letter you sweetly utter
melts in my mouth as I cease to breathe
around the wreath of roses that surround you like
fragrant halos in the scent that follows;
wanting, no, needing more. They only know
the lines of your curves, but only I know
the lines of your smile, which hold the secrets
of your laugh and every wave of you I grasp
in my hand. They only know your succulent breasts,
but only I know their reddening softness
in my grip when you let me into your embrace
as you take me in you and I taste the
sweet seat of your heart, that you never give to
anyone else. They only know how to move in you,
but only I know how to reach the holy dove,
that spreads the wings of your collarbone
as I suspend in the sublime overflow
of their pristine and pearly glow,
because they only know how you
walk on your own, but only I
know how you open and close
like the only ravishing rose,
that caressed and kissed
my rapturing ripped ribs,
that become her petals,
which were only mine;
out of touch and divine,
as too much of you is so delicate,
that only I know how to trace every
part of your body, of your soul,
that I inched, that I inked,
as I savor the hypnotic nectar
in between your fervent folds,
that hold the liquid gold
and the splendor I remember;
watery eyes with dew on the lashes like the
wet scent of summer leaves my heart believes,
when your half, secret smile washes
over me in a rain of color;
the incandescent storm
of your angelic form;
you will always be
my one & only.