The shape of a woman spells love. From the outset of virgin eyes / traversing its many terrains / its unspoken charters, there is no mistaken beautiful. When the world transforms to reveal something mesmerizing to your sense of sound, where delicate things shimmer like crystal, a chime to your heartbeat, a colony fielding a skin with life to pay subject to its queen, you know.

A quite wonderful language that takes to shapes of pears and apples/ to a sun that bakes warm to hues of honey and softens to a scent of serene/ as delicate as flowers, a most intriguing bed of secrets, welcoming to be loved in return.

Will you bid to your instructor her proper respect, devote semesters to her teachings, and discover a new essence to name after her, or turn her love against herself. Allow the chimes to go dark and the skin feel hollow.

After your discovery what lesson would you feed / dare alter the minds expression and leave you breathless and thirsty, a drought of your emptiness or will you allow her to quench your thirst and nourish the whole of your body with every cursive of hers, wrapped in circles and knots and pleasing exclamations.

Watch as she takes your hand and shows you the feel of the "C" the caress of her vowels until you pronounce the taste of each word. Consume her into your memory and calluses, but never too rough until she tells you. Learn her "Q's" and the arts of her unspoken language / leaving you in the mists of your daze.

There should be no confusion. Remember, the shape of a woman spells love.