A magic craft.
With bells attached, a contortion of such noise.
A racket of lust blazing scarlet love.
Maybe crimson as it flows.
It scoots over the highest mountains.
Splashing playful in water fountains, clean and fresh and oh so new.
The novelty of passion, washed up on the lonely beach,
Your heart is lost, I cannot reach.
My fingers numb, my heart the same.
To us, was much more than a game.
The beast of fear trapped us,
Yes, you and I,
You sit in your castle.
Watching the world go by.
Surveying your parallel universe, you think of me, now you think of hell.
Paroxysm of missing in muse!
(c) Livvi