The lustrous, half opened lips as you sleep, and the husky sound of your breath, yet charming playfulness of your fine lined eyes, with your long, well crafted fingers, dancing along as you dream of pain, or of merry moments, where as my hands lay on your voluptuous curves, ow so beautiful, the moments, buried deep, within my broken heart ...
I gazed at her while she slept on my arms, and my fingers wrote the poetry ...