Her love is sweet to Me, pleasing,
like a delicacy, a treat;
spent in fire that slowly refined
the inward parts into gold.
I drink, deeply,
basking in her genuine affection;
lost in a dance of lovesick romance,
consumed by a passion so rare.
She comes, I run,
a pursuit of desire ensues.
She becomes Mine, she stands by My side-
My radiant glorious bride.
She laughs, I cry;
see the tears of bliss in My eyes-
for in a selfish world where man comes first,
she sets My seal of love on her heart.
She opens, I enter;
she lets Me fully inhabit.
Every corner is Mine, every nook and cranny-
nothing is withheld from My eyes.
Before Me, a banquet;
the finest of fruits are found laid there.
She offers a seat, says they're all for Me;
I may have the fullness of all that I please.
The aroma, the taste,
of love, joy, peace and patience;
of goodness, gentleness and faithfulness;
of self control and her kindness.
I'm full, but there's more;
she can't help but continue to pour,
filling My bowl with an unceasing flow
of the oaths of a life sacrificed.
It's late, but she waits,
readying her love for the next day;
scrubbing her soul with the cleansing of blood
that leaves her spotless and perfect.
I arise, she's awake;
her gaze has not left My face.
Once again we begin the glorious whirl
of feasting on each other's sweet love.
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