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No more sanctuary I visit,
No more beauty I process,
No more sense I have to endure.
You are, I found, my Aphrodite—
Alas, a glittering jewel
Of your eyes,
And you're my aphrodisiac ectopic,
Flowing through,
Rushing through
My entire veins.
Dear, my heart aches for you,
Only for your love.
Like wild vine leaves,
You cover my desire to grow;
I shouldn't grow anymore
Onto others' souls—
You are, of course, my Aphrodite.
Hold my fingers for eternity,
Could you not, my dear?
Those are of mine: spectrum of delight,
Psychedelic rhythm of many forces
That which holds my breath.
You are the one that
I adore
And fear—
Ah! What a beautiful, frightful oxymoron.
I shudder with happiness,
I shriek with pleasure
To get you as a figure of speech.
You are my aphrodisiac pain,
But you are my Aphrodite.
There, evening stands before me
Like a child,
Like a fate of fortune,
And you come and rescue me
Like the bravest Amazon.
I touch you with my deepest symphony,
Which echoes off from your heart
To give purpose to my aliveness.
Do you hear the sound of crickets?
Why not they whisper onto my ears and
Say, "Let's be Bacchanalia with her,
With her soul, dance with us," they say.
"Come, dance with us,
Dance with love-fury."
Can you dance with us, my dear?
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