In the morning
She'll drink love from him
topped with kisses
spiced with reminisce
from the blossoming evening
in which they met
In the afternoon
He will hold her hand
his words sweetened with sunshine
and his laughter will tell her stories
of the land he traveled from
and of its beauty
In the night
She is fresh
her skin wet with the dew of a desire
two glasses spilled
red stains the carpet; forgotten
lips meet
His hands alight
like butterflies
on her dew – kissed thighs
She lets him guide her into a room for things
little known; but told through darkness
lights dim; no one sees – the world watches
secrets spun by midnight weavers
only known by them
no words need be told
for only the silence knows
of those things told through darkness
YOU ARE READING
100 Peices of Me
PoesíaThis is a collection of poems that I've been writing since I was ten years old. They encompass many things that I go through in life, and many of my thoughts. I hope you enjoy it. Edit: It gets better as it goes, the first section of the book is fro...
