Few of us are what appears on the surface That calm, cool, and collected facade
No, just five thousand kilometres beneath man's surface you will find
Eagerly parting lips Curves that mold themselves to the touch Whispers that may be tomorrow's haunting ghosts Wild and hungry hearts, liquid and refusing to be anything other than what they are
Unbridled molten hotspots
Eager to be explored by those who are daring enough Those who are brave enough and willing enough To sink into those dark and rich places To pursue and to capture To burn andΒ Β to melt With no guarantee that we'll not be altered or affected Hell no! Passion isn't and nor should it be, for the faint of heart