Those eyes of feeble quietness peer so deeply; difficult

To fathom yet holy enough to consider you saved,

Oh, what have you eaten?

Your breath smells of aromas I only dreamt of in the hole,

The graphic details you hold dear from the other night

Has become who you are tomorrow and the next however,

On the knees, beckoning miss frail by the book,

Conjoined limbs, slimy pinks in one or the other; clever,

For you are a crazy number and them pale limbs; ravishing!

I know that few can learn but many can watch;

The ways of your trickery in ceaseless hours,

Meat loving humans and closeness deserving;

Pitiful needs in fantastical beings; silent love!

Ambiguous… of course.