Let go the want to watch for The gates to open,Like Beyond lies fate, or Attempts to hear a knock in between The pauses of time,they call It a blank space. Let him fly to you With the wind,riding On its hem swiftly and softly. Let him land uninviting With the sweet waters,on Your parched lips. Let him run an errand,and hold You off-guard, Let his fingers leeway On your freckled cheeks, as if Motifs embroidered to augment your beauty Let him dig them across your little graceful curves And hold with the fingertips,evoking The resting neurons and laid back impulses Let him move his lips,lightly On the back of your neck And heal its lovelorn shriveled surface,because yours is butter-skin Forgive, if the blood trickles,off passion and smear your colorless life.