In the eyes of love, all feels the same—
The body, the erotica, free of shame.
Perverted fantasies, a pulse of nature,
Not a taboo if we dare to name.
To satisfy one's need, one's desire,
Within the barriers of what is just.
To please the soul, to spark the fire,
Blending morality with mutual trust.
Not a crime, nor a forbidden flower,
Sexual urges bloom through the night.
Filthy to some, yet in secret they cower,
Enjoying the pleasure of the flight.
Behind closed doors, they ease their lust,
Yet they refuse to normalize the talk.
It feels dirty only to blinded eyes,
But freedom begins when truth defies.