The lynching mind in fine foray,
witnessed the whispers of a crying angel.
The withered soul in depths did lie,
with wings burnt and fragile.
The touch of the finger
sends streaming waves beneath her skin…
And with tender morsels fit for a stray-
A whim of enchanting ecstasy grasps her.
The shiver that shudders the blooming petals,
with strokes of thorns like guilt pierce.
What a subtle display of a gentle melody!
As vulnerable and tender with sweet surrender,
on her lovers arms she lay.
witnessed the whispers of a crying angel.
The withered soul in depths did lie,
with wings burnt and fragile.
The touch of the finger
sends streaming waves beneath her skin…
And with tender morsels fit for a stray-
A whim of enchanting ecstasy grasps her.
The shiver that shudders the blooming petals,
with strokes of thorns like guilt pierce.
What a subtle display of a gentle melody!
As vulnerable and tender with sweet surrender,
on her lovers arms she lay.
Bottomline: "Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied, And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted."-Kahlil Gibran
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