the cold of morning rain
sends weary chills down my core
seeming not content to flush my veins:
greedily bores a hole right through.
...
another day,
another choice - cower or speak?
a chance to break this feigned repose
and find myself inner peace.
...
let me kiss those lips once more,
those lips that taste of wine.
let it be as gentle as before,
the first time you said you were mine.
...
if only i could
each day feel your warm embrace
kiss your lips under moonlit skies
as the cool wind traces your hair
...
when one has turned each rock and stone,
what more is there to see?
when one has scars for all thrills conceived,
are there adventures left so seek?
...
I gaze upon the
Crimson thread, this
Liquid silk that was
My love's final gift.
...
None But You
the cold of morning rain
sends weary chills down my core
seeming not content to flush my veins:
greedily bores a hole right through.
that, i, stumbling upon a pen,
drag my soul to fill
each line with words and rhymes.
but surely not my heart would sing
for what would drive it without the string?
what is there that's left for art
if not for beauty, wrath, or love?
and so i swear from here on through
to write again for none but you...
Just one chance I love it beautifully worded. Has a nice flow and rhythm 10+