I'm young but you're a child

It's obvious, isn't it?
When two similar planets pass by
each other
and get caught in
each other's
gravity.
It's obvious what must happen here.
The words not said
scream loud enough to
bridge the hundreds of miles,
and we still don't
say them.
Not yet.
It's obvious we haven't been here before.
Into uncharted waters,
we move so
very
slowly,
careful not to create waves
before we meet in the center,
careful not to misstep,
so that we can
do things right
for once.
It's obvious.

My heart bleeds blue at midnight. I heard owls hooting in my despair. Alone ,I lay naked underneath the beaming moonlight. I touch slowly my neck and close my eyes. Thinking of a predator I been waiting for a lifetime slowly slithering its warmth on my thighs.So preciously antagonizing my soul with its piercing eyes.It's breath is an intimidating musical hiss. I crave it's injection. Hiss between every piercing kiss.I touched myself harder as the owls hooted into the moonlight. I needed you. Imagining my predator teasing my heated skin with its cold fangs. Immensely waiting for its long hollow teeth to pierce me. While wishing, it instantly became the predator of my heart as it slither around my skin.The music began to start.Predator started to taunt, looking for the sweetest fatal bite.My soul began gasping harder, My predator, oh please prey on me harder.Slither uncontrollably, slither harder as my breaths change heavily. Predator inject itself slowly through every bite.Oh I am in love.It was perfect dosage. This is love. Intoxicating every blood vessel of my body.Every bite,I felt more yours. I instantly became weaker, your bite was the perfect dosage for the ****. It was perfect dosage.The perfect poison. This was love. The perfect *******. Underneath the moonlight , vivaciously sweating naked I screamed. Longing more for your touch.The owl hooted once more, morning has come.
I awake , I was loved for the first time.

With its injection ,
**The predator righteously own my crimson heart

She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.