It was the muse that kissed the ******* And turned his inner pain into happiness.
A face that often frowns turns upside down when she comes around. Clothes rain to the ground And screams of pain and pleasure become hard to decipher. Its not insane he found inspiration in her they found love in their pain.
****** bitten lips Ripped out hair follicles And hand printed bruised hips. He grips her curves Like wet tires when they swerve. She grips his neck Like she is trying to pinch a nerve. He grips hers to make it feel better to make them feel light as a feather hoping that they die And drown in each others nectar forever.
It was the muse that kissed the ******* And turned his inner pain into happiness.
She didn't need him to romance her much. When their eyes meet its as if he's tranced her When he touches her Kisses her and loves her she summons a flood. As if she was a rain dancer. The face of an angel with a heart Of cold marble. Their love could only be partial Even though they get so close Their hearts are separate like Stones of cobble.
When she leaves to pursue herself She traps his mind and heart in one grip. Not for a moment but for a very long trip. His inner pain returns and his invisible tears begin to drip. In the form of flowing life From his masculine wrist. He wonders will he ever find love As strong as this lust? Will his inner pain allow him to generate trust? Or will the pain cause his heart to erupt. Leaving a more heartless being.
So when they want to know what happened Just let them know It was all an accident and It was the muse that kissed the ******* And turned his inner pain into happiness.