I walk down the forest road
with his soft, pink flesh in my hands.
I speak truly only with my deepest self.
We are what we leave;
a wink of an eye, a crooked smile.
A gnome ear.
For too many years there was a dull hall,
too narrow to walk along.
So we smoked, we drank, we spoke and we wrote.
We somehow had to spend all the years waiting in that stupid hall.
The nothingness of time reflects on my skin
when I look into your elf-like eyes.
I lick you.
I smell the deepest waters of myself.
On you.
In you.
I have lost my angle.
No magic of mine will be the same again,
but I would have lost it again and again
just to leave you behind my skirts.
Just to reflect my waters on your skin.
You will always know.
No comments:
Post a Comment