Words are left at the door step
Only heartbeats and hot stares remain amongst the mist
Already attached due to the emotional bliss
This is it
I have no confusion
Maybe indecisive once our play is in action
I figure that comes with this matter
My body placed on top of your hips
The stroke left you ona whip
No where to run
There was never a way to escape
I can smell your relation
Put the face of frustration away
William K. Butler
No comments:
Post a Comment