In the ice storms of idleness, the paintings lie, capturing images of false humanity, Seems that Egor had been cavorting, with his roving eye, So the paintings spilled with scenes of profanity. It chilled me to the bone, in that darkened room, surrounded by those images so revealed, Egor sauntered in , laughed at my disdain, It annoyed me he should find my prudence so amusing. Enraged I called him crass, insensitive; a bum, And still he tossed back his head and simply roared, Insulted by his rude, haughty attitude I just couldn't turn my back, no matter how I wanted to ignore! As I glared at him with distaste, I couldn't help but note his face, How ruggish, captivating, he was to my eye Blood rushed to my face, my ire now replaced, By a lust that overtook me, fueled with blatant desire. I was powerless to resist, oh those lips I simply had to kiss, In the darkness of that room so cold, The walls now adorned with me, in all my naked glory, since the icestorm froze the prude in me, And my lust unleashed a woman, sensuous and bold.
Reason for writing:
A visit to the muse. Have no idea what I was thinking, but....well, thought I'd post it anyway.
Birth sign: Scorpio
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