She's key to the prison isolating my heart.
She's purest of joy one can ever know,
Angels dance at the edges of her heart, allergic to lies honesty is her pride.
Suffocated by ropes of sorrows, she untied them and climb to lands of jubilation.
Her smile awakens the smell of roses,
Clearing the fog of uncertainty.
A treasure worth forfeiting life for.
Enticing,alluring, comely, serene and mesmeric lady.
She's a lover, the light in the dark, a kind gentle heart sordid hands cannot reach.
The mind floods with memories shared —the heart, dried by old tears
and scarred by past lovers,
yearns again for her touch.
When I wrote this I was thinking about her and nothing else love consume us all but is this love?