Jan 2013
Your skin glows like the Apple, blossoms deadly as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your flute voice and leaps like a Bat at the whisper of your name, Poison.
The evening ascends in on a great Crow wing.
I am calmed by your Dress that I carry into the twilight of Silver Daggerbeams and hold next to my Heart.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of blood.
As my Breast falls from your Lace glove, it reminds me of your pale hand..
In the hushed, I listen for the last Howl of the spring.
My heated Lips leaps to your Garter. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret Silver Bullet so that we may Whisper as one, Lips to Lips, in search of the glorious Red and spiritual Grave of love.
My yearning heart rises to your flute voice and leaps like a Bat at the whisper of your name, Poison.
The evening ascends in on a great Crow wing.
I am calmed by your Dress that I carry into the twilight of Silver Daggerbeams and hold next to my Heart.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of blood.
As my Breast falls from your Lace glove, it reminds me of your pale hand..
In the hushed, I listen for the last Howl of the spring.
My heated Lips leaps to your Garter. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret Silver Bullet so that we may Whisper as one, Lips to Lips, in search of the glorious Red and spiritual Grave of love.
