The skies hung heavy and black,
casting a somber mood over the world below.
It was as if the heavens themselves were
burdened with the weight of yesterday's sorrows.
The fields, once vibrant and alive, now wore a grey smile,
a reflection of the tears shed in days gone by.

As night fell, the symphony of crickets filled the air,
their chorus echoing through the stillness.
It was a quiet night, interrupted only by the
gentle handover of the sun to the moon.
The air carried a pleasant scent of dew, a reminder
of the rest that awaited all living things.
And amidst it all, the tiny footsteps of rain danced
upon the asbestos roofing, a thief of nature sneaking
into the sounds of peace.

In the midst of this atmospheric symphony,
a wooden kitchen door ticked with the passage of time.
It creaked open and closed, its rusted iron hinges
adding to the melody.
The door seemed hinged in thought,
attached by fears and darkness.
It formed a latch, and night became its key,
locking away the light and welcoming the shadows.

As I stood there, my feet grew cold,
chilled by the ice-like glass of my fragile character.
A towel hung limply from the handle of the cupboard,
a silent witness to my dry mouth and the skeletons
of my past that haunted me, beyond my control.

But amidst the darkness, comfort found
its way to my side, persistently offering solace.
It was a visitor, never truly staying,
but always there when I needed it.
In my mind, I set up a spare room,
a sanctuary for fleeting moments of respite.
And in those rare moments, a sparing thought
would gently grace my mind, offering a glimmer of hope.

Yet, even in the midst of this fragile peace,
a shadow lurked behind me.
She knew my name, intimately aware of
the battles I fought within myself.
The empty room, once a sanctuary, grew heavy
with the weight of my inner demons.
Like a fallen angel, I descended into the depths
of my own despair, the falling rain mirroring
the tears that stained my soul.
And in a whisper, a secret was revealed in my ear:
depression, depression, depression.

And so, my depressing thoughts found me once again,
enveloping me in their suffocating embrace.
The world around me faded into the background
as I became lost in the labyrinth of my own mind.

In your eyes, a delicate pink hue danced,
Like a flower's tender blush, I had never seen,
Yet, I dared to kiss you, craving to understand,
To feel the enchantment that your lips could bring.

As time passed, you blossomed beyond that flowerpot,
Rooting yourself deep within the garden of my heart,
I nourished you with words of admiration and praise,
Expressing the immeasurable value you held, my art.

Your memory, a seed, lay dormant in my mind,
Buried in the depths of darkness, patiently awaiting,
Until the moment it would sprout and bloom,
Unveiling the love that within me was awakening.

I wasn't prepared to fall so deeply, so intensely,
A solitary florist, learning to tend to his own soul,
But with you, my love, I discovered a newfound purpose,
A garden of emotions, where our love would forever grow.

In the vast expanse of the celestial realm, where stars twinkle and galaxies dance, I witnessed the somber symphony of funerals in the skies. The haunting melody of a dying star echoed through the cosmos, while the silence of a falling tree reverberated with a profound intensity.

From the very moment of my arrival into this world, I burst forth with an explosive energy, clutching a fragment of my own existence. Yet, amidst the chaos, a wise voice advised me to gather myself, to find stability in the midst of life's tempestuous storms.

Within the depths of my being, my eyes shimmered like precious diamonds, forged from the crust of knowledge buried deep within the recesses of my mind. Some may label it a "***** mind," a guilty pleasure concealed behind the innocence that radiates from my gaze. The words that flowed from my lips possessed a silver tongue, born from the very metal that mankind had forged in the fires of their own pride.

I savored the bitter taste of acknowledging my past pride, forever harboring a touch of spitefulness within me. I regarded those more fortunate as my rivals, constantly engaging in quarrels within my prayers of gratitude. Trembling at the unanswered pleas, I sought solace in crafting my own revelations, only to be met with failure that served as a reminder of my own unfaithfulness. And in those moments of vulnerability, tears would cascade down my cheeks, a silent plea for understanding.

In the shadows, I am a lover, concealing my true emotions behind a smile that graces my public facade. Yet, in the intimacy of secrecy, my grin betrays the excitement that courses through my veins as I share my innermost thoughts. Secretly, I am my own strict disciplinarian, relentlessly chastising myself for every misstep taken in the light of day. As the sun sets, I extinguish the lights of my mind, allowing the darkness to envelop me, preparing myself to ignite the flame of motivation come morning.

For it is in the night, when the world slumbers, that the truth reveals itself. It is in the darkness that I find solace, where the masks we wear during the day are shed, and our true selves emerge, unfiltered and vulnerable.

We eagerly await the faint whispers;
an anticipated breath, and mere hint of your desire.
The echoes of passion reverberate in my ears,
as hearts yearn to break free from their confines.
How could I ever forget the way you adorn yourself,
that dress that sends my eyes rolling back in ecstasy,
just at the thought of you behind me.

Beginning with a few words,
I surrender myself to the pleasure of your touch.
My jeans constrict me, a physical reminder
of the intensity building within me.
My eyes, like flickering candles, chase the
sensation of our skin igniting.
The tension in the air becomes palpable, and
my smile retreats into itself as you kneel before me.
A gentle bite, a tantalizing lick, and squeeze
- my pleas become nothing more than fuel for your insatiable
desire to continue.

From the anticipation that hangs heavy in the air,
to tears that well in my eyes, everything becomes drenched
before we even reach the depths of our passion.
I dive in with a breaststroke, my teeth sinking into your chest,
eliciting your favorite reaction.
Our tongues dance, speaking a language only we understand
- the language of love, of desire, of surrender, and French.
As we moisten our lips with a hint of saliva,
my attempts to speak are futile, for words cannot capture
the intensity of our connection.

I refuse to release my grip on you,
for once I have you in my clutches,
nothing can tear me away from your intoxicating presence.
Silence your phone, let the fragrance envelop your neck,
as I search for the sweet nectar that awaits me on the tips of my fingers.

One, two, or perhaps three this time?
The possibilities are endless, as we lose ourselves
in the intoxicating symphony of our desires.

Thus, I might find myself falling in love
with the sweetness of a tongue,
the tender expressions that I've never known.
The assurances remain unverified, unvoiced.
I will pour my heart into a symphony of syllables,
but they remain as nothing more than silent echoes,
yearning to be heard.

Why do you play the role of a side,
when our love could be the main event?
It always feels like I'm just making love next to you,
And we both know it's not right,
like a clandestine rendezvous with a *******.
Why do I shower you with gifts,
when you barely acknowledge my existence,
sharing my deepest secrets with you, only for them
to be your farewell gift?

I cleanse my vision,
trying to rid myself of your haunting image.
I'm not a swimmer, yet I found pleasure
in drowning in the depths of your thigh's, last night.

Steaming my spectacles;
the only way to capture your breath,
we shared a few smoky moments, and I noticed
your capacity for holding things in,
in those puffy cheeks of yours.
We ventured in and out of your home,
and weaving in and out of their sheets,
There was a lot we could've discussed after,
but nature always called you away.

I tend to prattle when I'm at ease,
you slept on my arm, muffling the torrent of my words,
my wit often coming to my rescue as something so handy.

Regrettably, we only truly connect at the peak of a ******,
and whether I decide if I enjoy the simplicity of that,
This melancholic sensation in my heart,
it's an entirely different climate.

I wish I could record all of your secrets,
but I lose track of the time, and there's
this constant laugh track on my mind,
forcing a smile to bloom awkwardly on my countenance.

I wish I could purchase dreams for your journey,
enabling you to traverse the labyrinth of my mind.
As I stand afar, I find myself ensnaring the playful
butterflies that flutter within my emotions.

I wish I could to weave a bow from your desires,
launching them towards the stars.
On this celestial arrow, I'd affix a note – a divine appeal
– for you deserved everything, everything that edges
you closer to perfection.

I wish I could fold up my passion into paper,
and gently tuck these parchment words
into the chambers of your heart.
Despite the paper cuts stinging my hands,
I'd endure, for it's merely a testament of my
unwavering affection towards you.

I wish I could mask out all of my tears,
for I am but an unsightly mourner.
I have wept before mirrors, only to have them
reflect my sorrow – the painful awareness that
I can only yearn for you, never truly possess you.