She Is Not My Wife


Her tender lips, as sweet as milky honey,
Suckled from the virgin dandelion by
Several determined worker bees.
I taste her stinging, sultry sweetness,
For she does not resemble my wife...

Hair, short and silky, smells of attar.
Hair, long and flowsing like a golden river.
I must lie in this river's bed again,
To release the tension trapped within,
For she does not resemble my wife...

Skin, as soft as rose petals, merges with mine!
Adjoined, are we, upon blades of soft, yellow-green
Beneath an Aapple tree. After I am consumed by
Her sultry womb, she rests while I reach for a juicy
Apple to eat. I eat, sit, and stare at her loveliness;
I smile from ear to ear at her pure, winsome nakedness!
For she does not resemble my wife...

The sun is not as hot as she, nor the
Heavy breeze scented with natural musk;
And if this breeze is really lust that I breathe,
Then I'll even inhale its torrid air at dusk!
For she does not resemble my wife.

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