The gold on your chest sparkles like the sun off a shiny red Cadillac on a warm country day.

Old and mysterious,

a little bored,

but o so sexy.

The kind of mystery that tells me my heart has no business in a bed like yours.

Even so, I can picture my hands all over you.

Your chest rugged and strong like armor,

a protective facade that I will convince myself of.

Strange, strange love….

We do the strangest things for love, don’t we?

And boy the things I would do to feel that gold all over me…

Like wax from a hot candle,

let it drip slow,

slow,

so slow.

I’d let that gold drip all over me,

until my thighs ached for you,

and until my mouth became dry without your kiss,

and until I become breathless

without the thought of being needed by you.

So baby dip me in gold and keep me forever,

and I’ll sing to you every night,

never to tarnish,

never to fade,

in your strange, strange love.