#nikart

To be so well-kept betwixt arms and thighs alights the sweet pyre of hour-later sighs. Love is the ultimate of earthly consolations so says the sword in his ruminations Love, o love, a fire, divine.

So how, might I ask, as a bride of Glass Shall I fashion what love is to the mass? Find words for a torch - for the ember, the lust; the walking way, parting for the thrill of a thrust and love, o love, a fire along spine.

To wish to put to pen the way that I thought... Obsessively; incessantly; maddeningly hot… I know the words now, ‘neath all the falsehood: I’d sing about you a lot more than I should. Love, o love, a fire so fine.

Love writes itself to the point of suffocation. It lights and it dims, a scorch of sensation. No words for apologies, for they are only meat; Only lips, hands, tongue, the twin of heartbeats. Love, o love, a fire entwined.

Inktober Day 21: Flower

trying to catch up!!