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| Subject: Gibson | |
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Author: Chistine (Essence of Soul Award) |
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Date Posted: 03:02:58 10/29/07 Mon . his ebony curves are hollow but the richness of him throbs under my breasts as I curl against his sleekness take my fingers and pluck his heart his voice is mine against a grain of melody our harmony reaches to the cornerstone of need brushed in the ache of a poet finding only the syntax of soul rush me headlong on this flight where tomorrow pours open in a passionate embrace of fire raining down ....down.... he calls me his mistress of colors where he has slain my world in crimson rough on the edges, torn in places where few would ever touch yet sensitive to the slide of my hand where he aches our voices reach heaven and hell together in broken kingdoms of fallen angels but he stays with me eternally twelve to six, strings lined to shadow and still he calls me home TR ;)  [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |