Lust
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Feverish marks, from where love had struck a solid chordUpon thy evergreen heart,Upon thy smoothened heart,Upon thy fabulous heart,Were as beauteous, as the next whore of a line,Of a waitingTo see,To plea,And then, to fleeAway from my fingers, that brought you to ceaseYourself, from how you breathed. A disaster,Upon alabaster,Upon the skin of velvet smoothness.Upon
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Entrance me,Captivate me,In stunning eyes,And nuptial glare. The beauty surrounds,All my childish fondness,I am but a weak little thing,In the territory of your arms. The memory of myself,In the heat of unquiet,Is the time a face appeared,That was your own,A face of frailty and an open mouth,That whispered the qualms away. A mother in the
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Dashed with red lines,Above your feeble lips,Redness has clashed against the almightyOf porcelain chin and nectar saliva.It is the sort that drains,From a serpent tongue. You obeyed a man,With whom you sought after denial,To whom you’ve danced a longing night,Many of them, with which you saw betterment,If for but a while.Am I cherished in your
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I fall between two stems,Where petals grow upon the inside,And feel warmth that burns throughThe emptiness I’ve long gathered. Petals, I’ve gathered,And thorns I’ve grown.Some tune of a Devil’s defeat,Upon a man’s last word. I blew the kiss that would hit the flame,And she mocked its nestling on her cheek.Death fans her screams,As lust drains
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I am a man who has grown up around women. No sisters and no siblings, but 4 aunts, a long-time girlfriend, a close grandmother, a mother, no father, and 3 female cousins… I think I have a bit more understanding of a woman’s Psychology than the average stupid man. From what I’ve known of them,
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We were made to adore,The liveliness of life,The sweetness of a kiss,Upon the North, above your head, on the lidsTo your fabulous eyes;It has divided my territory. I had once conquered all,I believed I was once God,The wielder of life.Simplicity is only made through smallness,And the sameness of what I recognize.When I kiss thee, all
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Wherefore do we speak, when in an embrace,From words that ripple through our forms?Entwined, we dance between velvet stars,Entangled, we have mourned in past memories.I am your child, and I am puny.You are my beloved, and I am in you. Sheets surround us,A rope is at our feet.A love has groped us,A love that set
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I saw beneath lashes, masked by shadow,The beauty, of unfathomable lust,She drew a finger, in my direction,So that I’d lay, beneath ivory flesh. Never was there, an emotion so exquisite!As the one laid, upon my heart,Enough, so that she cared, to comfort,Its undying beat. She drew across, three fingers, to her bosom,So that three orbs,
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“Science is not ever directly related to beauty, because just as life is protected, a machine is always changed and enhanced. The “beautiful” thing that is changed was at first, met with dissatisfaction. This has all been born out of a denial of love’s importance, because love shields beauty from it ever being changed.”
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Don’t die, for the lingering sigh, In harmony, of shadows old. As I saw your face, of white, With folds, of skin, among iron, Death had painted Hell, on a frown, For my nose, to cling, to its scent. What would Heaven offer, if Death denied her form? God, who stalks the bramble, of empty
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Never let, Heaven hear, The great mockery, of my fruit, I was thoughtless, yet here you are, To bare the nakedness, of my suit. The reckless approach, to danger, My uncertainties, begone! Never broken, never saved. Never, but beloved, to the brave. You wilted, as to my own, Brethren, of my hope, Abandoned, with my
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Stillness evokes, the bitter strife, Winter trees, tore off this life. Lisette wore a mask, to conceal, The terrors of love, to reveal. She echoed a panic, of pain, Within forests bleak, by shame. I wandered, the terrible night, Exploring Lisette, in bitter blight. Some tune rung, from the trees, Receiving, my crying pleas. I
Modern Romanticism 