voyeuristically watching as her body twitches,
palpitates, vibrates in waves of creature pleasures,
standing in front of her, i am bathed in the light of heaven
the result is glorious, God at the centre,
with extra lashings of lyrical poetry,
indiscrete exploits and intense adoration
to sate her ache for indulgences
as in scenes from a Caravaggio painting,
we are alive in all of this,
in everything and everyone,
the protagonists are caught in mid-flow,
the phosphorescent glow of Jesus on the cross is upon us,
it is palpable, it is vivid, it is eloquent
composed with the harmony of the renaissance:
we are curled, coiled, twisted, collided,
we languish tenderly in each others embrace,
concetto, a total work of art, amour
it's a latin thing,
something for hotter climes,
reserved for romantics
and for a familiar passionate chica
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