that if you didn't die in the middle of it
you don't deserve to live after
and in both cases you are up to the fact
that you really never had before it happened,
lived
this is how your eyes work
drizzling monsoon pleasures in a gaze
arousing storms in every beaming phrase
contoured with lines of lust
glittered in indifference
your eyes sparkle only in want
closer to a distance
parting lashes for acceptance
and calling in a muted tongue
that is cornea-ted in the mouth of thirst
ready to swallow me whole
your eyes, deep as your soul
the abyss,
as i fall
Rising at your juicy sight
as vulnerable as your plight
your eyes breathe life into me
lip-syncing my words into their rhapsody
and as Bohemian
your eyes sing your beautiful tunes
in their hazel olive misfortunes
Frenshing hope to my Anglo-phonic melancholy
in the cobblestone alleys of my soul's Quartier Latin
and over your London Bridge of Aberrations
They softly press
your heart news mess
in my cherry lipstick headlines
i read into your soul papers
those banned articles, your editing fingers,
politically forbid
so i put on my words charm card
knock on your shutters door ward
and spell my smooching point of view
in a one on one interview
where your sunshine stare to my dew
as your eyes shooting crew
professionally handle my heart's every daring stunt
living on the edge of your border blink
asking for your tears to drink
and when your eyes wink
i into your brimming hole, sink
mouth-watered in a glare
roller-costarred in a fleshy glowing fare
lips crossed as you beam
your eyes know what to steam
dripping murmur dots
theses convicted killers soul guardian shots
bring me down to your paradise brim
tossing my verse in a glancing embrace,
revived at your exhale look race
realizing how sweet it is to die in the middle
of your eyes elixir peck
and taste my most deserving every other lifetime,
whenever your eyes and i,
telepathically lip-lock.
No comments:
Post a Comment