I want to be a butteryfly and drift along your skin
To tickle your neck with a fluttering breath of wind
Throw a whisper in your ear, you stop to lick your lips
Your eyes turn up, you grin
to a thought you thought eclipsed
You step by step in sun light but fancy misty nights
Where you grow restless with my lashing tips
And the spray of my delight
You follow your eyes and sound falls numb
The ocean bellows - and all comes back again
A blur of misty dreams arise - and it pulls you in
This wisp of dust you follow draws you to a shore
You jump and fall into bliss
and touch your neck once more
The prose in his tongue. Smoke filled room in his mind. The door tapped gently with question. He knows not what he will find.
Each sunrise dawns happiness. A mild smile 'cross his face. Strong wind from behind him. The future his race.
The death of antisapation. Bares more than his soul. Black eyes burn with ember. Clouded thoughts crush the coal.
Mere mortal to reason. But the stage has been set. Should he answer the door. Or pay off the debt.
Dusk settles, and pulls him to think. Three stones in one hand. The other a drink.
Not want for loneliness. For affraid lonely he'll be. One more glass to his lips. To dull the sharp sting.
Now the glass lay beside him. As his tears fill the cup. One tear for his baby. One tear for good luck.
As paper is torn. He feels "this" inside. A definittive distance. An uncertain size.
The opaque mask that he wears. Is not for disguise. Yet, for harliquinn discourse. And a sheen of beguile.
A twisted heart moves the man. In a direction unknown. The fall from decent. His actions a moan.
The ear at the door gentily opens. The orical flower willing her scent. She knows the story. She invites him in.
A master of baiting. She knocks it down. A cross sided look. He falls to the ground.
She dresses the heavens. Imbued with time. He watches her hands. As the textures unwind.
Her transcendent eyes mirror. Only a reflect. Eyes touch eyes. No sign of neglect.
The sun also rises. As he hangs his shirt. What he has missed? He now allows hurt.
This angle bent gesture. Follows his cure. For he knows what he wears. Now wieghs more pure.
Fate?
I hardly think so
Angels fall from heaven
Drift in and out
Leave an ember of hope
One man can't live off himself
Vain and derogatory,
He pumps himself up
The angel only turns the view
Towards elysian fields, enchantment
He wants the world, but what can he do
Only a mortal soul
One more attempt
To escape all willing minds from purgatory
"There's so much, He cries,
What do I hang on to?"
The angel smiles softly and tells me,
Her