A night with you...
There is no remorse
to hide from us
the dying soul
of a unlovely cold.
Were we touch with out no sinister soul
We just let the heart touch for us,
we are just couple of lost souls
that we never know what tomorrow will never come,
but we know that today is on
we know that we have a sand clock under our skin
that count every single touch
were time betray us
because we have a bond in a bowl of lust
to never re-touch this sunken soul
I desire more from you
but I still drunk from you
I still desires more from your melting touch
to die with desires of infinity lust.

I am thankful for all of you

You may disagree with what I say
But
Poetry is supposed to have teeth
And if you disagree
That means I win
Because I made you feel something

You may not like my point of view
But
Poetry is a form of expression
A means to protest
Its not for the faint of heart
Its for the strong in thought

And to be true

The greatest poets of all time
Are the most controversial

At least they were in their own time

When you touch and feel, it is desire
But when you don't touch and feel,it is love

You don't want to be lonely like the people you have *** with.
You don't understand the ones you love are perceptive.
I've watched you wish your life away and blame it all on strangers.
Performing to the audience, hoping someone takes notice of the lies.
You're not as detached as you show through your disguise.

"Where does it hurt?"
Everywhere
"Specifically?"
I guess right here
"Your heart?"
Yeah
"That's not a good sign"
"How long has it hurt"
A while I guess
"When is it worse?"
At night and sometimes day
"This could be serious"
"We will take you up for a scan"
Doctor?
"Yes?"
*Please make it go away

Please hold my waist as if you'll love me forever,
See the universe within my eyes
For forever will soon be gone
our souls left for the heavens.

Place your lips on mine and watch the stars fall,
as if their illuminating brilliance
has been replaced by the electricity formed by our kiss.

You and I were floating as two seperate beings,
but have now been joined
by an abstract entity
from which science nor reasoning
could ever reveal its history.

For love is a perplexing concept,
And ours is a story that has yet to be told