Standing tall among men was he, Very humbly he called himself a 'refugee'. He was the Queen's Consort, oft full of wit; Yet in humour, he pretended to be a twit. Some thought he stood among the gods, Busy with so much he had no time for the Land of Nod. In life steps behind the Queen he would always be; At death carried high before the Queen and for all to see. All the many good works he had done, The world only knew at the set of his sun.
Your hands move along my spine like you know me Did you know me when I was 16 I think your lips once touched me with a taste of whiskey while you drew a tattoo on my back that read property of Drew Darling I open myself for you to take me to the rose garden of dreams where roses turn Blue and I turn into a princess who screws you Licking cinnamon off of you and coming alive on top of you You pulled my dress up in the ballroom and penetrated love Now your lips **** on my flower every night Your eyes wander the crowded room With kings and queens dressed to the nines while your pretty face sits between my thighs Did you know me before this life I think your body hugged me after that party for the queen They’ll never know who You are You’re a man who needed teaching but taught me instead how to ***** like princesses do Is it true that the world was built for you Cause my days are devoted to you Darling I’m drunk and seeing stars that resemble you Licking you and becoming a woman on top of you You pulled my dress up in the ballroom and penetrated me like bad men do Darling it’s true.. I was made for you
Lying in a blossom field on the grass between lavenders The sun is shining right on me while a breeze is touching purple royal flowers tender. A heavy scent is in the air Ascending up to heaven I close my eyes pretend to sleep while being quite enchanted. With you lying here next to me tenderly caressing cheeks I am in lovers heaven.
Lavender color of the royals, lavender rose the flower for enchantment.
The sky transitions from yellow to orange, From orange to red, and red to dusk. Her snowy hair and diamond skin Render its final sparkle before the sun sleeps. Fallen royalty, she is. I met her at the crossroads On a path leading somewhere, and to nowhere. We shared the moment of anguish. “Your majesty,” I say But her gentle yet worn hands cover my words. “Shh,” her eyes tell me. No interest in words of the past, No desire to venture towards the future, no. Instead we stand in silence Allowing the burden of hope to settle in. The sadness behind her beauty is daunting. She has known love before, But never felt the warmth of being in it. Her tears are figurative, for I know the look. My hand searches for hers and We watch the darkness swallow the sun.
“I’ll be dead by morning, oh the night is young. I’ll be dead by morning, my final song is sung.”