Poetry by Shams Gabar & Painting by Aimé Venel
Thou the beauty of Venice
Shall be no more than a delicate light
The sun has set on your mother, devoured thee maybe
It is the devils wings underneath this wretched cloth
Put my hands against thy thighs where no love or remorse
Thy eyes have hid the stars where no man must be
The nights will discover thou vanity surplus
Show me your heavens
Your hell it must be calling for me
Though I need to touch thee as love has filtered me
Trust your bewitching lips can take no mercy
Never ending no more
I take thee now, just undress me with thou caressing finger tips
Screaming crescent eyes shall smile between my knees again and again
