Sentimental,
A touch of my soul with fingertips lurid,
Passionate, fiery, awake!
Stroke my soul with dying cornflowers,
Bachelors' buttons washed out!

Once moist and fresh,
Death by dehydration of suns heat destroyed!
Meadow was brightly biting harsh,
Piercing bright,
Once lightly fragrant ,
Hurling wishes at aqua acquaintance,
Share loves wishes and kisses with my soul,
As I sit I live and breathe,

So she will survive,
Burning with sun washed love,
She's alive!
Laced with crushed velvet, in royal blue,
Speckled scarlet tinged, stained,
Heart in tamponade,
Engulfed, crushed, warm blood soaked,
Drenched in loves' colourful array.

Fragility personified honestly,
Soft, warming, comforting,
Only for you!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

moral tamponade: resisting the existing
pressure against my breath; the right in wanting,
the wrong in settling - the confliction in my conviction
for both *** and respect;

must the two be mutually
exclusive?

I don't do that catch and release type of
relationship **** - no predator/prey - just equally
matched competitive exhibition: rotate the roles
of top and bottom, pleasure and pleasing, we are in need
of fire breathing;

I want purity in purpose, practice
in form/I want limbs to be tangled and words
to be torn

Your fingers don't look like fingers anymore. In their place I see something  lethal, with a trigger attached to it. You pull it. The roots of my inner most being implode. As that caves in so does my ratiocination. Everything is succumb to the sound of the shot. But my body. It's paralyzed. Numb to anything real but the trickle of tears that run down my face. I fall into cardiac tamponade. Asphyxiated in my very own skin, where your shrapnel likes to call home.