Every princess dreams of her prince,
passion's swirling, and alluring spice of incense.
That burning glaze he traces across her skin,
savoring soul's tattoo etched deep within.
Her heart churns on a mill of emotion,
pressure's pounding waves in endless rotation,
as she awaits a soothing, fluid balm
of cleansing; his gentle inscription of calm.
Throbbing for his molding impression,
eagerly awaiting her ruler's mute obstruction
of all tyranny's previous suffering and pain
flicked aside, forgotten with his reign.
A bee to its bloom, unity perfectly enacted;
any and all aspirations consummated,
encompassing every inch of their other
in a pure, innocent indulgence of pleasure.
This rose lacks no blushing petals or pliable stem
cradled in gardener's strong, capable hand.
And none can unlock his heart's wealth,
save the keys held by only herself.
One body emerges, facing the world-
lost, entwined, together, forever closely curled.
The rain falls, the swelling clouds pour down,
no war waged - in ocean's desire they willingly drown.
Each princess inevitably craves this attention
as a harp pleading her song to the musician;
with fingertips to travel and play her body,
discovering notes sensuality, transition embody.
The merit of their melodious symphony's fullness
reflected in pool of music and minstrel's resonance:
eternally spiraling threads of flawless delight,
'til hovering darkness is shattered by light.