Heated Passion, Spotted Quilts
Heated Passion
He took a bite out of my heart,
And served me a plate of his.
His eyes lay upon my breast,
Where his fingertips grazed.
Causing me to shiver,
with excitement.
As Passion became thunder and lightning,
Giving tornadoes rise.
Wake me,
When lightning strikes,
Let your thunder
Be my undoing.
Give me a gentle drop,
Upon my rose.
Then may my dove flutter,
At your gentle winds.
We-who will become one,
We-the tornado,
Taking over the apple tree,
We-who are victims of heated passion.
Spotted Quilts
Be that it
The lighthouse,
Which shows
The darkened man,
Who seeks out
The maidens end.
Her heart,
Be not his eye,
For it is her body
That steers all that he is.
He hides his icy heart,
As his mystery and facade
Traps her.
Save,
That which has yielded
Nothing but clowns,
And spotted quilts,
To which none but pain may yield truth
and mercy.