Perhaps it beats for
The lust engraved among it;
As ventricles sing,
And as blue flows from the veins,
My love beats proudly for you.
A blooming life grows
Among the healthy green vines
Of the strands inside,
Each with buds from flowered flesh
That blushes brightly through skin.
Skin of the petals,
A rosy kiss that glows on
Much past the garden;
Past the bark of ashy trees
And past the shielded ocean.
My patches, dancing.
Swaying in the soft, crisp wind
To keep on chiming.
Had it not been a lush breeze,
My heat would then carry on.
For whom I seek touch,
My heart yearns for crimson thoughts.
For whom I sway long,
Past the forest of my mind
In the roots of my true wants.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
Perhaps it beats for
The lust engraved among it;
As ventricles sing,
And as blue flows from the veins,
My love beats proudly for you.
A blooming life grows
Among the healthy green vines
Of the strands inside,
Each with buds from flowered flesh
That blushes brightly through skin.
Skin of the petals,
A rosy kiss that glows on
Much past the garden;
Past the bark of ashy trees
And past the shielded ocean.
My patches, dancing.
Swaying in the soft, crisp wind
To keep on chiming.
Had it not been a lush breeze,
My heat would then carry on.
For whom I seek touch,
My heart yearns for crimson thoughts.
For whom I sway long,
Past the forest of my mind
In the roots of my true wants.