The Beauty of a Beauty

Her black, moist hair flows like an elegant river. As I watch her and all that dwells within I violently quiver. I look her up and down not knowing if she realizes I am around. But yea, so I am and I pray that she is my sacrificial lamb. A sacrifice I must make, one that is for my own sake. My eyes creep, looking at my beauty- a galliant "steed." So I stoop down that low so my vibrant love will eventually show. I absorb her serenity, knowing, holding onto her that is mine for all of eternity. Now I look her over once more to entrap and to allure. She has skin, crisp, white, and precious, but I know that I must flee from this engrossing sin. It lashes and slashes the workings of my inner mind's eye, but I must make the attempt to make her the one, and only - thine. I develop a transcription, of her, making sure this transmission is no act of vein fiction. Start! There goes my heart out to a beautiful woman, off the charts, and a knock out of the park. Transmission begins, I must give in to another- the last of my women. Her skin as an albino, I feel as a love struck and dashing rhino. Her eyes glancing at me, glassed over. I can see the reflection of her want for me, moreover, for the love of a man like me to bring her humbled, yet stumbled down in love's drunkenness on bended knees. Her beauty is might. Out of all the girls I've liked, she is the one that will take me through the night, forever more, every night ‘till God comes down to shed his brilliant light to strike all that have given into that hidden, forbidden sin that we have all given in. We've done it. I've done it. We have mended our souls to never have to give in to this again.

Poetry Slam: 


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