Beauty

Her name is beauty,

and she should be bathed in wine

and blanketed in roses.

She is the song of love,

and all things light.

Her name is a prayer,

and should be spoken at morn.

I am lost to her,

Keeper of souls,

Holder of hearts.

The eternal Aphrodite.

Untouchable, unspoiled

My virgin priestess.

I cannot bring myself

To mar her purity,

Tear her veil of innocence.

I shall place her in glass,

Shut away.

The world will not take its toll on her.

Her flesh must remain cream,

Her eyes clear,

Her lips red.

Kept in a gilded cage,

She will not be sullied by the world.

No coarse hands will touch her silken skin,

No rutting stallion will find release between her thighs.

In her tomb of glass,

She shall rest.

None but I shall gaze upon her,

Kiss her lips,

And stroke her hair.

She is my prize, and I her keeper.