I worshipped the myth I made of you, but now all I want is to stop praying on my knees and have your hands become my language of tongues; And softer than the wild beats of birds wings, I will press kisses to your pulse to remind myself of the living god in my hands; I am full of a silence I don't know how to break, except to utter your name; your rich praises pour from my lips, and I am bleeding under the sunset- everything is more beautiful with a heart full of devotion for a lover~
YOU ARE READING
The Bardic Book
Fantasíacollecting all my poems, odes, lyrics, letters, notes and ect to find in NPC pockets here. if you want to feel the drama from what is essentially burned, stained, folded and torn paper scraps, this is that.
