My trusted eyes, they could not see.
A vision of blackness beckoning free.
Of shapes and shade, there must not be.
Oh’ what is this, that which sent you me?
My trusted lips, they could not taste.
A lick, a drip, a lustful wanton chaste.
Of vital nectar, and endless droplets cased.
Suckling, licking, kissing, centered to your waist.
Of your scent, a rising mist, olfactory numb.
Calling, teasing, luring, led, a smitten dumb.
Oh’ drowning sweet, lingering must, wafting cum.
Of your smell, your draw, dancing aroma from…
My trusted skin, it could not feel.
Your nails, and hair, and fingers long steal.
Oh’ to be caught, reeled, lipped to the creel.
Of your touch, I’d dance, jump, run down Beal.
Mine trusted ears, they could not hear.
Your calling, your whisper, your chanting near.
“Oh’ come to me, lay with me, be still with me dear.”
Of your voice, the softest call, with my breathing clear.
And yet one more, the sixth, I knew not, trusted not.
To be sure, led not astray, the heart of hearts be caught.
Oh’ to know, to be led, connect, blend. Oh’ to be wrought.
Of the blind that see, the mute that speak, of the deaf, and
the lame, and the lost, you give the surest sense, taught.