Love with a Young Artist

Love with a Young Artist                                  September 14, 2013 

She paints the stars of my night sky, 

Daring me to dream past the day gone by. 

Sultry and seductive, I am knocking on Heaven's door, 

And she rises fast, arching her back, 

And I, feeding her chocolates, rubbing her lips, 

The Bohemian lover she be of mine, and I have lost my grip. 

She is painting the sweat around my chest, 

Never shall I need to pump iron again. 

Aroused, she rides, the galloping commences. 

I never flew so hard until she rode my saddle this night, 

And never again will I await for the sun to rise. 

The artist she be, Bohemian by decree, 

Her love for her canvas -- me -- she lathers with care. 

I feed her another chocolate as her creative juices flow, 

Her warmth, her splendor, oh so seductive and moist. 

Holding hands we are, thrusting the night away, 

And I cut through her hole like a hot knife through butter, 

Pushing, fighting for every inch that I can 

As I must pound her trench, 'tis warfare and nothing more. 

Our love is a war, never shall we forget, 

Until now the fireworks are bursting, the champagne is overflown.