I miss your warmth around my naked limbs
Already bare of any lingered touch
A careless hand on thigh, a foot in foot amiss
I've never dreamed one thought to be too much.
They say, it is first love the only true
I've never given it a spare glance
What I do ken, my one was overdue
The one I'd missed so fiercely in advance.
One always kills the thing he loves
The famous poet declares
Yet sure as flames the one who halves
One's empty heart and never dares
To share the severed flash and let it grow anew
Is truly maimed, and murderer besides,
A life of vested sadness is the one askew
I'd ever choose to nudge my love's uncovered glides.
Confessions on a lonely night
© Copyright: Коридвэн, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112100109149
Свидетельство о публикации №112100109149
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