My hedonist healer

Eyes like glistening chunks of charcoal

A RussoMongolian aura that cuts deep into the soul

The fighting heart of a lioness

She looks regal in her elegant dress

She has a sandmill figure

one glance at her and I am eager

She’s spiritually as towering as her body is petite

I draw her on my lap and kiss her ankles and her feet

She looks mentally strong and physically fragile

Her hands and her face arouse me most, they beguile

She’s strong-willed as the Golden Horde

Holding her hand I’m in charge like a steppe Lord

We are boyars in our heart

We are bohemian in our bodies

We are Habsburgian in our culture

We are American in our ambition

We are Irish in our emotion

We are Japanese in our discipline

We are Brittish in our manners

We are French in our romance

We were blending from the start

She hits me with her control with well-aimed volleys

She is the eagle that drives off the vulture

Together we have a liberating mission

You and I have hit the ignition

Just the proper amount of sin

The beast with the two backs adorns our banners

For a moment nothing is missing

when it’s your lips am kissing