When Hell cannot be quelled
Of its shaping design, to forge a fire in my mind,
There are the eyes, I always follow
To where they point,
Upon my bosom, where a bruised heart, burns black.
A little woman with her hair in tangles,
And suffering as a stain upon only her skin,
Because, she has tasted flame,
The flame of deprivation, to her core,
The flame that whips the amorous words,
“I desire more!”
My little woman
With beauty so much in detail,
There is, yet, a single place I put my gaze,
That are the eyes of yours, with your glance over curved
I desire no more, upon when I am singed by pain
Than to see that stare, among tangles in your hair.
Little woman of much beauty,
Have we given all to else, the world and its thirst?
Place us both at the next moment in our wonders.
We are beautiful,
As we are meant to be.
And nestled beside ourselves,
In the Heaven of our belief.
With few promises to keep,
As desires unfolded, for ourselves to see.
We will continue to believe,
As I continue to witness,
Those two eyes demanding kisses,
Staring upon my heart, to make it once more
Flutter with a start.