by Annisa Arthur From between her legs the earth has perpetuated its revolution around the sun.
In many shapes and forms it has come and gone.
But it serves and served for years a million
And out of hers, our love has spawned.
The dawn of Venus did herald with a shell.
Representing the universal birthing well.
Its plump, fleshy, pink inside holding secrets like mine and yours.
She was ushered majestically unto the earth- bound shores.
It does not take a rocket scientist to be a good wife.
It does not take a rocket scientist to use her body and bring forth life.
It is something of intuition.
It is something that defines us “WOMAN”
But the birth yours has given is of a different kind.
One to which (I did not realize until recently) a lot of women are and have been inclined.
Something revered and buried within the hallows of time.
And has been slowly emerging with each generations unapologetic light.
Now I use mine to please yours.
Whether you are on top or I on all fours.
In the ways we differ, we discover that we resemble even more.
And through the nectars of our covetousness our lusts pour.
I linger in the aisle of her fragranced, black -leaved garden.
Wishing that when she tires of seeing my longing, I will be pardoned.
And pick of her sweet grapes that will flow her instant wine.
Open wide flower divine.
