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“Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.” — Roman Payne
Ô, the wine of a woman
from heaven is sent,
more perfect than all
that a man can invent.
When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs
not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise,
I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes,
then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise.
While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine
I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine;
and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine.
Ô, the wine of a woman
from heaven is sent,
more perfect than all
that a man can invent.