I was born as a mistress of love,
Opening more shirts than hearts,
Alluring dormant senses that uncurl
The ego’s dark and stubborn parts.
I slip my blind hands under your clothes,
Muting screams of lust
Discarding slowly heavy loads.
Sheltering kisses that will last.
I sin like a troubadour of night,
I cut my gutters from within,
Throwing my nudity in plain sight,
Cause when you finish, I begin.
