First evening in seven years, The romance is a winter dream, Memory flooded with bad blood, Lightning dawn & a departed childhood. Your half naked crystal laugh, Your little feet, giggles, You’re the evening breeze on forehead, Your beauty immensely naïve. Your gentle eyes Offer all the lies, Your kisses Confirms the delicate orgy, Your hair A black Revenge. You carry cannons of black demons, Shaman’s wait in the corner, You pray your sermons with grape-shot, The sacred summer dances. You’re the fantastic dark For my raged heart, You have the mountains ring, You’re the grass Under the cool blue dress. My smile was cold, You rocked me warmly, Your hands on my chest, Two fists of coolness. I groaned by the light, For your dark habits, You shut my lids And offered your tongue In passing. “The Blue look” © Wanderer 2014
Posted on: Mon, 01 Sep 2014 14:54:36 +0000
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