Black Perfumed Silk Poem by James McLain

The long black perfumed silk, it catches his hair there,
Ashen skin,
and her skin on the cheek of his.
Which was hollowed out - it is deep, it is dark.
Her eyes on you he asks, we want it all, it is desired.
Bring it to me it got wet, it is red, perfection, it invites, her lips.
It is long, it is thin, it you opened, her arm it must causes,
helped sufficiently, it makes great assumptive circles.
Life and to your he is her heritage of one single mind
and to stand near her beating chest it moves when I do.
Her hands which I have felt carressing which is never touched.
By her very certain, her certain words thus I am.
Which is whispered how often she it tempts.
And useless are rings when her teeth are - sharp,
perforations, incineration and her soft fang - are tormented do!