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His redolence bellows of whiskey and Black Cherry Wine steeping pores to pour palpable indiscretions…
Spills of silk slits betwixt splits bleeds a Black Cherry opiate from the womb of Eve’s apple, meshing toxic with sweet to treat trix so truth deceives and lies are believed…
And She IS She who tempts temptation and taints wills to wheel lack of will to feel what fills pleasure’s principle abet molting skins of Black lace from breasts to waist as he opens to taste that Black Cherry opium’s conniving smile that bore men’s graves…
And She IS She who copulates where midnight prays and preys with Ebony tresses to sway across her back as he lays entranced by the dance of her Serpent stance as she slithers he cowers and devours what remains of her Black Cherry venin that numbs conscience to con sense to swallow death as life…
And he IS he whose redolence bellows of whiskey and Black Cherry Wine steeping scores through pores pouring sins of yester’s day on their chaise no longer chaste as her face tastes that Black Cherry hypnotic on his lips…
she drifts…
to the garden where She sleeps and sees he and She beneath the apple tree where She danced for he as he parted lips to savor temptation’s treat…
And she IS she who seeps spades of rage as reason fades the venom stays and she blades his heart as does hers bleed high off that Black Cherry opium she breathes of his breath and death sneers at the graves he bore filling one more abetting seduction’s whore…
The Serpent is She…awaiting trix to treat and they feed from her womb where Eve’s apple bleeds…where silk slits spill and taints his will and he feels what She fills as She wheels him to kneel before her and She dances
Until...
he becomes numb and succumbs to her cum…the Sweetest Black Cherry Wine…
Shall we dance?
