My touch is like a multitude of mountains reaching the glories of heaven.
My words still cease at the street of doubt and inner tribulations.
Like Venus, my rotation is clockwise and I walk backwards as Venus to the truth, I’ve always understood.
The peril of heartbreak spoke gently to my fragile soul.
This time, it’s as if the sensual orbits embrace the causes of desire.
You long for me to touch and yield fire to your yearning body.
Even in the thrust of my answer, your mind is deluded to my attire.
As you feel the passion inside of you like thunder, you’re still flashing as lightning first.
I am looking directly into the light and there is a cause to readjust or else I’ll be blind.
What’s more than the sensuality of our orbits designating a strict path of interest?
My prayers are reconciled with the galaxies of knowledgeable monumental pieces of data.
These orbits are sensual indeed as a conversation with a ghost dives at a charm I’m familiar with. Conversation invokes a detailed comfort which courts right at the kiss of lustful memory. I’m feeling the throbbing member which feels a reminiscent courtesy that is allowed because of a distant creation. The universe knows what great length creation took place, as we only struggle to make meaning in and out of its enormity.