Kiss me once and upon thy lips,
I hold this heart aloft,
for ever fearing darkness,
I find, I feel, do not,
for fire held in furious palms,
press diamonds from the carbon,
these rolling hills of tender flesh,
do tremble but to open,
as graceful hands do brush and touch,
sculpt passion from the marble,
the sun doth glow behind closed eyes,
with legs entwined in scandal.
For tempos rising like the tide,
and falling like the rain,
shed your skin and inhibitions,
embrace this; consume; untame.
For this hearts' beat and steady rock,
of hips and lips and hands,
will knead the need
from this bed,
and pull glass from softened sands.
i am not billie frechette
· Mon Nov 24, 2008 @ 08:04pm · 0 Comments