God of Breasts

So goes night, creeping on zephyrs of wispy dreams.
You fade into the valley of my breasts, misty moorings your soul.
Rise up to the peaks, throne yourself and proclaim that
you are the God of Breasts--the God of My Breasts.
I cannot deny you are a deity in the Temple of Pleasure,
of lust and love--the fine line that dividing the two.
Within your hands, you cup my world in a firm but gentle grip.
How can I not zealously shiver in revered fervor
when you claim every dip of my valley, every raised peak
as your personal sacred ground?
OurHoly Night is here. Incense clouds the air.
Red rose petals adorn the lily altar of my breasts, your temple.
Anoint me with your oil, feast on my manna and sip from my lips of wine!
While the world disappears, we create a religious experience
inside the halls of your temple, O'God of My Breasts.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I hope I'm not crucified for this poem. lol..
Actually this poem and the "Small Deaths" poem are cannabilized from a poem I started that had too many images in it that didn't gel together... gellin's what its all about, baby.