Fair cheeks,
hold The color,
I self proclaimed my love to be,
The heated warmth,
of a lovers breath,
sends such rush,
to my maidens face.
Palms carress the flame;
never burned...
but always inflamed,
A crimson Mind wonders,
thinking of love,
Yet not knowing what to say,
what is to be said,
when nothing need be?
One look,
Crimson ignites,
I long for such heat,
to hold our flame,
yet I know,
my fire is long extinguished,
by the ice,
That resides,
where no flame,
could ever burn...
frostbitten to the point,
where the amputation of
a blackened heart,
won't save me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fire melts ice, remember... When you least expect it, love'll come knocking on your door. Can't wait to read your poetry, then! For now, this is great.