He covered me in metaphors,
Drizzled them over my skin
Till I was doused in his words.
His alliteration bombarded my body
With beautiful beliefs and ideas.
My luscious lips were his.
He cleverly incorporated sibilance,
Making my body feel sexual
While my mind was sensual.
The use of caesura
Was without flaw.
He left me there, awaiting more.
He even showed me an oxymoron
Through his burning cold touch,
It was a sad joy when he pulled away.
His language was hyperbolic,
By the time he’d finished.
He’d made me into a Goddess.
His final lesson was in grammar.
My thighs were parentheses.
The whole of me was his.
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