Iona

Your hair is like stands of gold spun by angles,
each ringlet was formed within the heaven’s own kilns.
I wish to hold your face in my hands
and stare into those blue eyes,
that sparkle like divine pools of cyan water.
How I want to kiss those red lips,
inhale your sweet perfume,
and run my hand over the exquisite curvature of you perfect form.

You are beauty itself.
You are divinity on earth.
I would worship you as my goddess,
I would kiss your feet,
if you would only let me,
and let every breath in by body be a pray to your magnificence.

My heart quickens every time I spy your face.
Oh to stroke your smooth skin and kiss your lips.

You have my heart in yours.
I long to hold my hand to your breast and feel our two hearts beat as one.

I cannot say your name,
I am not worthy to utter the name of a god,
though the thought of it fills me with unimaginable ecstasy.

Joy, Love, Divinity, all these things you are.
All these things you are to me.
My love, my god, my everything.

By Jenny Anderton

Photo via (cc) Flickr user slurpiesandstraws ☮ 

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