tender
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Love is a song, the most tender kind.
A gentle stroke of give and take.
A feeling of confusion, an adrenaline rush coursing through your veins.
Press against my begging blossom,
Reaching for
Thy tender kiss.
As I quiver beneath your bosom,
Fill my womanhood
With bliss.
For I trust you with such bounty,
Take away
My name is insanity.
See the way my teeth bleed,
My eyes shine,
My cackles echo through the corridors of night.
Do you see my stretching smile?
I know you do.
The woman's tears were beautiful; the rarest things tend to be. The less a fragile soul is seen, the more tender and sweet it seems.
How strange
That hands so gentle could touch with such fury
And damage so intensely.
How strange
That hands so rough could touch the hearts of so many
SO tenderly.
How strange
Love you I can never not
Or never ought
Nor never thought
I'd ever not be able to stop
Able to fight
Wary my flight
my soul is an attic;
there are dust particles
floating
and settling
all around.
my memories lie,
scattered upon
decrepit, creaky shelves
and
doubtful, broken staircases.
Though I know you not,
I’m compelled to write
Of your beauty, and nature so tender
Your smile radiates,
And shine like moonlight.
