Poetry
Releases me
From my world
Of warmth. From the
Edges of the environs.



Do
Not worry about
It being safe. For my lover
Has my back.



Caressing
Ideas into
My head. She whispers.



She
Is my
Cosy cloak
My warm milk,
While the emotions of
My heart spits 'chilly' like the
Climate of  Winter fell.



She
Is my
Three-eyed raven.
I am her Brian-the-broken
Even in the darkest of nights
She illuminates upon my pain.



She is poetry.
The food I feast on.
The liquid which I gulp.