Caressing the gold of the platter is like fulfilling years of longings,

that have only wished to come to life,

Confounded in supple agreement,

to unite with a freedom,

that has been smothered by past strife,

a barren production of love,

outweighed by a forgiveness summoned,

by the heavens,

opening the pathway

for the breath of passion to evolve

a curtesy in tune with the desires that presume

to cloak you in a weltering defiance that claims

the unspoken fancy you require at your feast of undying approval

with succulent hopes and dreams thriving about

until you pursue the very taste that drives you insane

and makes you refine your own commencement

that assumes to take you past heaven’s glory

and redefine your entire life,

stirring every insatiable temptation inside

taking you to the castle’s doorway

tipping all the scales to what truly is divine

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