Strike Gently on these Anvil-lips of mine, my Love.
For I am not an easy metal to craft.

Strike my lips with intent, my Love.
For the soul of my being is fickle and difficult to grasp.

Be Gentle with my lips, my Love.
For the belong to you,
Yet be cautious of them
For they are not to be as jewels; put on display in your possession.

Be soft with my lips, my Love.
For they will not respond truly to the brutal touch of pure lust.

Be passionate with my lips, my Love.
For my soul is broken and earns to be reminded of beauty.

Be yourself with my lips, my Love.
For they enjoy the thrill-ride to being broken.
Be True to my lips Love.....
For their addiction to idealism has left me brokem before.....

Be Cold to my lips, my Love.
For my confidence is shattered and my insecurity demands incentive.  

Be kind to my lips, my Love.
For they may have accumulated frost in the absence of yours.


Be wary of my lips, my Love..
For they may wound you still!
Be understanding of them, Love...
For they love yours






Strike Gently on these fragile lips of mine, my Love....
For they seek to be your Anvil