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#religiouspoetry
Morena, mi alma, You are my light, you are my grace. I ache for you “to”— your lips dance across my body— the grin in the corner of your eye— so sly— keeps me captive. If we were alone— two candles—dangerous in the dark— together— what bliss to burn— Your tawny hair, your chestnut skin, your empress toes, your impish nose— the ocean of your hips— rocking I want you— until we are spent— on our knees— where we make gods of one another— again.
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May 7
May 7, 2026 at 1:29 PM UTC
ClayF
Dangerous Candles: Revised
Morena, mi alma, You are my light, you are my grace. I ache for you “to”— your lips dance across my body— the grin in the corner of your eye— so sly— keeps me captive. If we were alone— two candles—dangerous in the dark— together— what bliss to burn— Your tawny hair, your chestnut skin, your empress toes, your impish nose— the ocean of your hips— rocking I want you— until we are spent— on our knees— where we make gods of one another— again.
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As I dwell within His vicinity in search for Cleopatra's stone His angels rise at the complexity of the presence that dwells within Wondering, lost in Labyrinth's embrace I, at last, have the glimpse of hope, a distant light As I drenched my soul in His blood to see Your face Finally, the upper hand, I have within the fight Inhumane, the nature that dwells within my psychology along with tenacious entities, calibrating as to describe the extremity of the Torturous self-tyranny I place the pen on the table and let You do the narrating Your grace, I can say, has spoken enough Whispers in the dark, unseen and unheard Strategic in battle like the argent chough sufficient damage incurred
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Nov 7, 2024
Nov 7, 2024 at 3:37 PM UTC
novaero
Novaero XXI
As I dwell within His vicinity in search for Cleopatra's stone His angels rise at the complexity of the presence that dwells within Wondering, lost in Labyrinth's embrace I, at last, have the glimpse of hope, a distant light As I drenched my soul in His blood to see Your face Finally, the upper hand, I have within the fight Inhumane, the nature that dwells within my psychology along with tenacious entities, calibrating as to describe the extremity of the Torturous self-tyranny I place the pen on the table and let You do the narrating Your grace, I can say, has spoken enough Whispers in the dark, unseen and unheard Strategic in battle like the argent chough sufficient damage incurred
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