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.