Lay upon the soft brown flesh,
a hand which trembles out of fear.
Sweet words whispered in the dark,
she sings of things I cannot hear.
A single sigh does shake the night,
our bodies wallow in this sin.
An orchestra of moans that ring,
her lips they linger on my skin.
An ode to pleasure that is pain,
of lust and envy we do sing.
Her maiden's veil this night was slain,
to her the taste of sin I bring.
The girl did give her heart to me,
I breached her sacred sanctity.
Yet she enjoyed it as I did,
beneath a cloak of love we hid.
The night wind moans just as she does,
the pleasure she tries not to fight,
our bodies hidden in the gloom,
We make love in the dead of night.
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