5 Star

You are 5 star luxury
to me;
your eyes are swimming pools into which
I can settle dreamily.
Your hair is a black satin sheet
slightly rumpled;
your voice is room service on the line.
Your breasts are magnums of Moet.
A hug from you is a long holiday.

Oh, I’m not saying it’s all free!
I’m paying one hell of a bill for your services
rendered;
but they’re worth every tear and
stray thought.

Your skin is a magic carpet
imported direct from the craftsmen of Persia
(or somewhere like that).
Your lips are complimentary chocolates.
Your skirts are silken drapes.
Your rings are diamonds anyway.

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