Parting in slow motion beneath my fingertips.
Each layer, a story in the book of pulchritude.
Her fragrance illuminating the darkest attitude.
Her garden, a library, housing many a volume;
Her body, a bottle of organic perfume.
Each thorn in her side, a sharpened defense;
Guarding the beauty, preserving her essence.
Tasting my touch with each velvet tongue;
Exchanging the gift of appreciation.
Lusciously lost in flowers so fair,
Hypnotic infusions permeating the air.
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