God sent me a beautiful angel.
A beautiful angel with this rare melody.
A rare melody I've been dying to hear.
Dying to hear the love of my life speak to me.
Speaking to me about how much they been waiting for me.
Waiting for me to find my way to my beautiful angle with this rare melody I've been dying to hear.
         -s.g

She weeps not for the shore
As distance creates a shadow
She embraces the current
Becoming the wave
And gently pushes her sea home

She chases not the sun
As the day is put to rest
She is the moonlight
That cradles the stars
Tightly to her *******

She yearns not
Her pain-streaked tears
That fall below her feet
She is the soil beneath her toes
Her pain now colors the tree

She worries not
The flowers' bloom
Or the leaves that fall like rain
She is the wind
That will kiss the ground
And sweep it all away

She has constellations on her skin
And galaxies in her eyes
She is a work of art
Worth more than all in The Louvre
Her hands touch everyone's soul
And her laugh is a breath of life
She's astounding, yet doesn't know it
Your dream used to be
To show her her worth
But now she's gone
And left you in the shadows

His eyes, hypnotizing,
His hair, luscious and smooth.
His skin, rubs against me softly,
His hands, strong and sturdy.
His tongue, long and wet,
His body, drips beads of sweat.
His legs, trapped between mine,
His lips, big and mighty **** fine.
His ears, curbs perfectly against my lips,
His fingers, moving below past my hips.
His touch, gentle and kind,
His kisses, left all over my body.
Now that we’re finally done, we open our eyes, staring at each other, he smiles and so do I.
He leans down for a gentle kiss, one last time.
This is some moment that I will miss, more than us being high.
          -s.g

Early is the mourning
Of the glory that shall pass
Cold is the forelorning
As I dream of the past

In the days of old
The knights were still bold
Now its foretold
That the nights will be cold

This chivalrous knight of mine
Rides in with winter wind
Freezing the vine
And my heart in the end

I'll wake in the morning
To find that glory has past
The nights are freezing
And cold hearts
         Cant last

Unburdens the dusky river

dreams of flow dead in the bog of hyacinth
harvest burnt in the scorch of aridity
ripples robbed by the silt of dogma
sunbeam denied by the **** of creed

I was meant to reach the sea,
now I would never make it.

I pick the river's shattered pieces
with my own from the wintry dusk.