I have given up the thirst for love.
Perhaps it was never supposed to come.
Treacherous are the females I meet.
Treacherous is the destiny they keep.
Born from mothers who love to destroy.
And the mission of calling to love was never
meant to be deployed.
I call to those women who wear the perfume
of beauty.
That your angelic face is only the devil showing off his choosing.
Maybe the one I will find and hold
is the one I must remove to find the gold.
YOU ARE READING
You Who Knows Best
PoetryThis is a series of love poems written by me. "May we meet where the eye can find its rest, And where our hearts beat for each other, even outside of our breasts."
