My moon is a He
And he's talking to me
Telling me secrets
The place i'd rather be


Leigh Herondale  *August 2015

Though green his not to *** without love
The feeling of cheers still as hot
After the brawl a trademark left - his evil laughed

Princesses are quite shy at first
But how could they neglect his touch of dearness
How could they've known that they're catching a pretending caress

He  love to hear the sound of those dames while they're tickled
Those are music to his ear
He love to behold the beauty of those ladies while they're naked
Those are art in his eyes

Alas! Thy virginity was taken away
Thy pureness was broken like a glass
To the air thy clamor burst
The adjective left to thy mouth was a cursed
A cursed for him, the BIG BIG WOLF....



Written: July 27, 2001 @ 3:20 pm

nom de plum: Mysterious Aries

If you look in the corners
Of my heart
You'll find One
One was the first to plant
The small seed of love
In my young heart
From it flourished a red rose
He found it so beautiful
He decided to rip the petals off
Once he held them in his hands
He decided to go find another rose
One was the first
I wanted him to be the last
He was there in the past
He will be there in the future

Two
Was the second to arrive
He found the red rose
And saw that it was dry
His eyes were oceans
And he drowned the Rose in them
He was not satisfied with having
Only one Rose
He found someone else
To be his last
I opened the door for him to leave
So he wrote his name in the past

Three
Was the Christopher Columbus
Of the oceans of my heart
Three rediscovered the dying rose
And nurtured it
til the petals grew back
He wanted to erase the past
So he painted the petals white
And said it represented innocence
He adored the Rose
And admired its' beauty
He sang songs for it
Believing it would
Grow more beautiful
2 months too late
He realized it never would
He loved the idea of the Rose
Not the reality of caring for it
So he ripped it out from the roots
And wrecked it with his hands
He left empty handed
And left me empty hearted
Three was the third
I still dream about him
Being the last
I wish he wasn't
Stuck in the past

Four
Was a gardener
He knew his way around flowers
And had with him many dying roses
I should have known
He planted a rose bush
Fed it love poems and pretty songs
His voice was the only water
The roses would ever need
Once they had bloomed
He ripped them out
And went on his way
Onto some other heart
He was never truly mine
I had always been his
He won't be my last
He left too many scars
I put him in my past

I wanna make a dream
wish to make them true
why can't I close my eyes
As I have bad dream so many times

I wanna be happy
want to have a big smile
how can my face be bright
As I have cried for whole night

we can't erase what is already on a canvas
but we can always paint over it

The third day was the worst
with a thirst
undeniable
for trouble,
I was liable
to fail.

A thought just came,
what would happen if unnature remains same,
nature remains same,
and
suddenly human got vanish but
things made by human remains same?
same thing will happen,
that is happening,
next creature after human,
may use the entirity as natural,
may envisage the entirity as natural.