You’re such a woman.
Optimized by the thrusts of nature,
taking it like a statue being impaled
by gusts of wind.

Helpless to the sensation,
Your only option is to screech
soft echos of pleasure
that resonate with the melodies
pounding within.

You weather the storm.

Holding your ground
while being turned on
by the functions of anatomy,
which supply you with the tools
to experience pleasure
each time you take
a stroke of skin.

You get beat into submission.
The sensation overwhelms your senses
as it strengthens
the width of my flesh
causes the path inside you
to expand.

Craving the intimacy of oneness,
you accept my proposal
to make you queen of
the castle
erected for you to live.

As I carve my vows
into your walls,
You sink the head of my throne
through a narrow crevice
to reach the bottom
of your den.

Every day is our anniversary,
We renew our vows
only to bury them into
the soil of matrimony
to be recycled
over
and over
again.

We are now frozen
in a synchronous moment,
an eternal participant
in the ceremonial practice
of repeatedly creating
the end.

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