Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O Love, your eyes lose lure
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!
Your slender attitude
Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,
Rolling and rolling there
......
I couldn’t stop staring at your pretty pink lips and rosy cheeks. You’re the calm before the storm. The overwhelming silence between what I was thinking and what I said. I wake up from my daze, only to see that you are gone. But I couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty pink lips.
You are mine and I am yours. The calming breeze in the night. What am I to do when the night is so blue. The hazy mist stuck around and the night dew is cool benefit my feet. Aimlessly walking in and out through the night, quietly out of sight.
he is a
poet
verses sprouting
each time
he presses his lips
into my skin
Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
Kindness of wooed and wooer
Seems shame to their love pure.
O Love, your eyes lose lure
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!
Your slender attitude
Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,
Rolling and rolling there
......
he is a
poet
verses sprouting
each time
he presses his lips
into my skin
I couldn’t stop staring at your pretty pink lips and rosy cheeks. You’re the calm before the storm. The overwhelming silence between what I was thinking and what I said. I wake up from my daze, only to see that you are gone. But I couldn’t stop thinking about your pretty pink lips.
You are mine and I am yours. The calming breeze in the night. What am I to do when the night is so blue. The hazy mist stuck around and the night dew is cool benefit my feet. Aimlessly walking in and out through the night, quietly out of sight.