A blindfold funambulist.
Hanging between the sky and the earth,
Risking the rope and an odd bare foot.
You made me
Feel the warmth of love, in your lacy arms.
Holding me like a mother,
To her nipples.
You made me,
Walk holding your hand along lanes and hills,
Among dust and stones,
On May blooms, under November rains.
You made me,
A reticent contrivance.
Turning my heart into a harp,
One that only you can play.
You made me,
Fathom the power of love.
Trust me dear, I shall be your beau,
And never shall bid you adieu.
2 comments:
I only wish it was me whom you were talking abt
@anonymous...
Thanks a lot!
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