Renaissance Romance

You are my Renaissance.
Your fingertips whispering poetry for lovers.
With verses lingering tenderly on my skin.
Your lips writing the rhymes of romances.
"This is art," you breathe softly into my ear.
I close my eyes as I let myself go
and drink in your gentle embrace.
A poet for my own.

Hands skillfully caressing my curves.
Carving away the nostalgia for what was.
My fears melting away in the safety of your arms.
"This is trust," you silently promise.
Indulging in the luscious intimacy of your warmth,
You penetrate & fill every sensation of my body.
A sculptor for my own.

You paint the fervent colors of ecstasy upon my lips.
My body craving each stroke thrust upon the canvas.
Heartbeats, desires, and rhythms intensify.
"This is passion." A moan in reply.
Body blissfully arched against your own,
Lost in the euphoria of a heated masterpiece.
A painter for my own.

You are the delicate weakness & ardent strength of my heart.
A beauty and felicity beyond description.
"This is love," your actions show.
And I am yours.