At times when I feel most lonesome, and bereft, I yearn to feel the touch, and the softness of my lover's sweet caress. Kind and considerate, never maligned by hostility or hate, the quality of love that brings to mind questions of destiny and fate. The purity of it which will cleanse every fibre, each pore, like holy water rains from Heaven that fall from the skies, and soothe my rocky shores. Passion so bright, it lights up my heart, and then my soul; just the thought of you on the dreariest days is often enough to make me feel whole. At whose feet shall I prostrate towards for bestowing me with such a love so true? Shall it be God, my eternal beloved in his entirety, or a combination of him and you? Love in its most idyllic form that conquers the world until it becomes the norm, the rarest variety that is enough to wash way the tears of children in countries that are ravaged and war torn. With petulant poignancy, my pen dances on paper to the beat of this love that has filled my world with sheer happiness, and the most magnificent bliss like manna from above. Cupid's arrows strike me, sedating me into the sweetest slumber, Venus and Aphrodite have vilified my people and caused my internal Berlin walls to crumble. This romance that unfolds, and unwraps itself in waves, crashes into me, shakes me awake, then reminds me that I am no longer sorrow's sullen slave. Liberated by lust, humbled by your hands, I slip through your fingers like sand, as you have shown me that even I have the propensity to be possessed by the potency of passion in this pedantic land. Promises made and kept prove to me that honesty, and truth can coexist with bountiful bliss; I am here, open and receptive, ready to fall further, and deeper ensnared, with just one simple kiss.
Time stood still for nary a soul, it dragged its feet, aching and old. Blistering heat that made us melt, we were once softer than silk felt. Hallowed hearts wind whistled through, covered in bruises, black and blue. Hardly broken, but maybe bent, running on empty and love spent. There comes a day in all our lives, when our failures cut deep as knives. But you shall remain a triumph, you stayed with me, like a science. Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout, until the blood drained from our mouths. Yesterday—softer than silk felt; seems like all we do these days is yell.
Comments