Last night during the witching hour
I woke up in a cold sweat.
Perspiration forced from my body
I knew that you were the fire burning in my
sanguine vessel.
Time never reverses his firm grip
around the neck of mortality, however,
As the morning dew collects, and our rested faces
venture into new winds
your aspect grows more beautiful second by second.
Love is an apparition that mingles in the minds of men
turning rationality into feeling.
Before the windows of my soul, I gaze upon your demon
the phoenix of my lifelong passion for you reborn.
I lay me to sleep, and pray for your intervention.
No comments:
Post a Comment