My words’ hands’ tease:
They annoy the threads
Who clasp the right - to left -
Of your tender chest.

How, if well said,
For your parchèd Eyes,
Divine - yearning to wake
Your Life for Life’s sake.

So bleed thirst th’earth;
Heavens’ Hells gore torn
By juvenile Crush,
By me, in touch.

Wisp knives are born,
From Rebel Tear’s trail,
To Love - and caress;
Kind between your *******.

Your crust proves frail
As it parts - to screams,
Exposing Young Heart, bare,
Exposed: to my stares.

Naked your dreams
Love, **** is your Soul.
I smile, to death’s sweep,
If your wings, you keep.

How cleanly celestial, Loved, your Trues;
Gladly my veins for the stunning, fair muse!
How gorgeous the flow of color and sound;
Madly I adore when you deny th’ ground!

This sophisticated dimension of vision, this display;
This spectacular spectrum fusing Winter Night - Summer Day!
Now return an absolute glance, brave, in the Looking Glass, New,
It is only you….