traces of you, in mi skin,
a taste of you in my
tongue, and the smell of
you, clouding me
i close my eyes and i see
you, the inner goddess in you,
holding my hand, walking next
to me, the strength in this cat
the reason to live, and advance,
and the owner of mi life, the muse,
the patron, queen and ruler
of this broken and blackened heart
i walk beneath dark clouds,
as if rains followed me, threw
the creepy and stocking me city,
followed and wounded, but strong
as a lion, with a proud smile.
the smile and the heart, are content
as thei where never be, complete and
free, yet, still arrased and followed,
even so, free, from the creep against,
trying to be you.}
a kissing poem for the beautiful,
sick muse, loved, admired, worshiped
as the moon, and like it, mi ligth in
dark nigths, next to you, two years without
feeling the loneliness, that usted to be
my soul companion,
the reason and the sense, in this nonsense
place, the trace of your eyes guard mi sleep
with my eyes closed, and feel you, next to me,
and the smell of you my religion,
making me your devoted, devote to your eyes,
devoted to your hips, and to the smell
of yor skin, every dream of you, i arise
kissing mi hands, the tip of mi fingers,
as if a trace of you where there still.
fromm heroine to you, i wanted to quit
the smack, but never wanna quit mi
fix of you, cann you be me everlasting dealer.
addicted to the soul and the eyes of
the lady lioness.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 12:10 AM UTC
traces of you, in mi skin,
a taste of you in my
tongue, and the smell of
you, clouding me
i close my eyes and i see
you, the inner goddess in you,
holding my hand, walking next
to me, the strength in this cat
the reason to live, and advance,
and the owner of mi life, the muse,
the patron, queen and ruler
of this broken and blackened heart
i walk beneath dark clouds,
as if rains followed me, threw
the creepy and stocking me city,
followed and wounded, but strong
as a lion, with a proud smile.
the smile and the heart, are content
as thei where never be, complete and
free, yet, still arrased and followed,
even so, free, from the creep against,
trying to be you.}
a kissing poem for the beautiful,
sick muse, loved, admired, worshiped
as the moon, and like it, mi ligth in
dark nigths, next to you, two years without
feeling the loneliness, that usted to be
my soul companion,
the reason and the sense, in this nonsense
place, the trace of your eyes guard mi sleep
with my eyes closed, and feel you, next to me,
and the smell of you my religion,
making me your devoted, devote to your eyes,
devoted to your hips, and to the smell
of yor skin, every dream of you, i arise
kissing mi hands, the tip of mi fingers,
as if a trace of you where there still.
fromm heroine to you, i wanted to quit
the smack, but never wanna quit mi
fix of you, cann you be me everlasting dealer.
addicted to the soul and the eyes of
the lady lioness.
really hard not to writte ****** poetry, with you being so incredibly **** and perfect in your own way.}
