Dust can only hope to dull
the beauty, the spark within
her eyes, her being, her soul
leave me consigned to sin

Sweet sin, that tastes so fine
Drunk on filth, the lies we spin
We push on, cross the line
Cling to morals, rope so thin

It snaps, we fall, saccharine sweet
We embrace, we meld, feast on skin
The taste, the spice, the humid heat
We asked, we knew, but never when.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Ero, in the year 679 AF.