I've tasted the lips of a goddess.
I begged sweetly at her altar and was granted my wish.
So I stole my taste of divinity
and fled
for fear of being unable to part.
I spent the following days intoxicated,
Incapacitated,
Inebriated,
Astounded,
Confounded.

The holy chorus of her laughter,
the sunlight of her smile,
left me bereft of focus.
I was found.

The will of a goddess may only be sated by pleasantries
for so long.
I found myself on my knees again,
as she danced before me.
Layer after layer, she unraveled,
revealing the curves of her body,
smoother than any marble made to her likeness.

The marks of Aphroditus adorned her sacred form,
In the delicate angle of her throat,
the prickle of her cheeks,
in the budding growth of her breast,
all shining between shafts of shattered sunlight,
and the divine cradle of her hips.

And O, the way her hair tumbled
from her crown like Bacchic vine,
Ripe
With holy splendor.

She was a beacon of love and light,
a monumen to kindness and self-love,
and most of all,
bravery.
For it takes great strength to achieve deity in a way
such as she.

She kissed me gently, humming with a sense of knowing,
of tenderness and understanding.
She kissed my sloping throat, my hairless face,
my chest more mature than her own,
and once at the bridge between my hips,
placing her righteous blessing onto my body,
before finally laying onto me
like the sunset onto golden fields.

And her cries rang from the heavens,
as her ambrosia spilt from my core.
Spent, she laid against me,
Heartbeat to holy heartbeat.

It was unlike any thing - any love
that I had ever experienced.
To be held by a Goddess,
Was to be known as myself.
To be held by a Goddess,
Is to feel real and honest love.
To be held by a Goddess,
must liken me to a God.