She has a place for me in her heart I've heard the others say the same Yet I still May rest my head Where she would stay Whilst all the others are long gone Heart is a heavy word Reminiscent of stranger times Comforting to say the least
A shackle and a briefcase Share her room with me One wonders if an invitation is real When not in writing Enticement is real As real as flesh and blood As real as her Laced ******* with frills Bluey green A colour best described as teal Or was it turquoise? Though that never mattered Not important to me Not a single detail
I told her not to be afraid of living She said fearlessness is for the dead I enquired about the living dead She laughed We are the only monsters That feed off of life We are the only demons That go bump in the night
She is a goddess A truly **** mess I would like to pay homage To the warmth between her legs But there are many a pilgrim And it is well documented that I hold nothing sacred Though I do have her favor For now Yet my invitation remains unanswered I never knew a briefcase Could be so ominous
Though she'll never be my queen She still ***** me like I'm king