[Demon]
/ ˈdiː.mən /
(in plural) A person’s fears or anxieties. [from 19th c.]

But I am something special to behold; the one fed the
seconds of love- second-guessing myself. Teeming in the crevices
of an inspiring war; -in solidarity; wasting myself fighting alone
Oh, what a waste of time…
How you see me, is all in a wick of imagination; a first
surplus; too weak in love, to see ashes to those feelings so obscure
For if I came with the picture of my everyday man; would it
still fit your frame…

Well, here he is: a man who questions if the same God he prays to,
picks out his favourites- giving favour to the devil, to play such chords
in my head. Yet the alter did write about Hope’s song; his ego
wouldn’t listen to it…
From the pretty perfect picture, you see outside, it will never be what
you can quickly find inside. As long hugs leave him so petrified- just
in case you catch onto what’s loitering inside. As your love from this
story’s beginning, did catch me by surprise -a surprise of how you still
love me, with the demons I still battle inside…

Now here, builds up the ****** to entertain both parties;
and I promise you, it’s ending won’t be felt partially…

[Afterlife]
/ ˈɑːftəˌlaɪf/
A conscious existence after death

as the sound of drowning in a grave, quietly plays- maybe the
world is already over; and I’m failing to recognize it
anymore, or any less, of what it all was long before;
-as the love you sometimes seek will break you
the trust you rest in someone’s hand, is the hand of friends
who will betray you; some of the dreams you believe in,
will have your family reject you, and those who wish you well,
will quietly judge you- when you immediately fail

as everything tells us, time stands still when in times of grief
the silent lips of sounding out your pain in sleepless nights;
as by the few stars I visit; I sometimes hope to join them
as a host; choosing to still shine in a surrounding darkness

alas, I’m more so a falling star- clad in gravity, my stellar
bones are each pulled apart- but apart from feeling an aversive disgrace;
the picture of your face, does fill me with grace- that even in
this life’s grave, I could die a pretty smile- as the one you always
showed, for in my afterlife, it would be something special to behold

[Gardener]
/ ˈɡɑɹd.n̩.ɚ/, /ˈɡɑɹd.nɚ /
One who gardens; one who grows plants
or cultivates a garden

I had the sight to foreshadow the coming rain…
the saturated drink of bottled-up sadness
—while longing to touch with eyes
Magnetized and mesmerized; smitten by
the coming storm of love… Oh how one does look
forward to the rain, as the cool of day- as droplets
dance on the shoulders of a raincoat

Perhaps in this long and overachieved drought
these feelings are like desert rains divine
precious liquor of life, upon my eyes parched sands
Growing out beautiful violets, from once violent gales
still in my eyes fruitless lands- I glance at you, my
delicate flower. For the yearn and crave— a heart
able, available, and willing to water your garden with
the words of raindrops gossiping about us,
“pitter and chatter”

Is it not a comforting sound?

[Coup de foudre]
//
A sudden unexpected event, especially
an emotional one; love at first sight

Now the question on my mind: is there any detail
to love at first sight; for the naked eye
finds pleasure in a **** body in silk or satin;
as he’s so anticipated of her, in a customary hot pose,

Deflowering the garden’s well protected rose
dropping her guard and unwrapping her sensual soul;
Soft lips as his chest- to the pleasure of a heart
still, what if love at first sight wasn’t so pure;
an enhancement of one’s value

An exaggerate beauty, a functional part’s wants
In the eyes of another, I have seen how much I desired them
as my own selfish needs- that was my love at first sight

[Dove]
/dAv/
(countable, politics) A person favouring conciliation
and negotiation rather than conflict

Spare no fortune to the worth of
these words- pay attention to details
for the bullseye of love, as a dash and dart
Falling in love, as there are many falling feelings
…brace yourself when the bombs start.

Embrace your frightened eyes; holding
onto the sights of your whole world burning
Choked up on your own words, as when an addict
swallows their cigarette- the smoke that's churning

As I’m in a hell designed by the torture to my eyes
the sight of you gone from my life- after the roles we
played from my thoughts; acts of my mind
My love, there’s no need to tremble and hide, like a bird
that had its nest burnt over. Nestle in my love, and I’ll
wash you so pure with my words- setting you free as a dove

We don’t need to negotiated our love;
making love in peace with a piece of my mind

[Coup de main]
/ku da meIn/
-a sudden development or action to surprise an enemy

Oh in groups of ten
-the devils who chase after me, with spears of metal
as pride is the ****** of mighty, but lonely men; as I
drown myself, as a wave locked out of the sea

The ships of time have sailed atop my fresh wrinkles
skinned knees, blood and awkward sweat- pouring
as when a man confesses his love to their crush:
utterly consumed, ultimately crushed

This must be the first strike of love- with its cannon
roars; leaving holes in my heart. As to fall in love
is an action that has caught me by surprise
As none this time, will be spared.