Of Untold Truths

Her words meld in succulent succesion,
And nothing seems to quench my obsession.
Every crevice and chasm to explore,
Her beauty appears to me as a chord;
In a language that seems familiar but forgotten,
With the sweetest voice like an angel begotten.
The mind’s eye meets with vivid interest,
Your body’s perfection in every excess.
For every expection that she met,
There's an abundance that I know not yet.