Wednesday, August 3, 2005The Sweet Morning AfterUpon the shooting flames Of flesh held hostage by The faintest of touch And lured more so by the shush Of your breathless whisper On the delicate frame of my skin So sensitive it memorizes The trace of your tongue As though you patterned Your existence inside of me A muse to awaken song As the... Sign in to see full entry.posted by MiaElla at 9:02 AM Comments (15) (permalink) |
