Forget the lace and the grocery-store roses,
The hollow words and the practiced poses.
I don’t want a love that’s polite or refined,
I want the kind that leaves the world behind.
I want the friction, the heat, and the noise,
The reckless rhythm that balance destroys.
Lock your fingers in the mess of my hair,
And breathe me in like the midnight air.
Love isn't a poem written in ink,
It’s the edge of the cliff where we don’t even blink.
It’s a fever, a pulse, a beautiful wreck,
It’s the bite of your teeth on the side of my neck.
So save the candy and the velvet red,
Give me the fire and the words unsaid.
Let the saints have their halos and shrines......
Tonight, just be my favorite............
sweetheart sin,.......Valentine.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 10:04 PM UTC
Forget the lace and the grocery-store roses,
The hollow words and the practiced poses.
I don’t want a love that’s polite or refined,
I want the kind that leaves the world behind.
I want the friction, the heat, and the noise,
The reckless rhythm that balance destroys.
Lock your fingers in the mess of my hair,
And breathe me in like the midnight air.
Love isn't a poem written in ink,
It’s the edge of the cliff where we don’t even blink.
It’s a fever, a pulse, a beautiful wreck,
It’s the bite of your teeth on the side of my neck.
So save the candy and the velvet red,
Give me the fire and the words unsaid.
Let the saints have their halos and shrines......
Tonight, just be my favorite............
sweetheart sin,.......Valentine.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
