I wanna be free
From the good and the bad.
I won’t accept my thrills cheap,
I want them to cost me everything I have.
My milk and honey
is like a stranger in a foreign land
My joy in November
is seasons away from where this love began.
When you walk into the world,
Feel blissfully free to go
but my heart has to stay on it’s throne…
So that I’ll always know ,
the reason why you call my temple “home” .
So please, tell me we’ve been restored into another life.
A chance to do things roughly right this time, Because I believe we’ve spend enough of it
Getting to much or not enough of it.
An opportunist for my love, he is.
From the endearment rested on my forehead.
To the busses softly placed on my nose.
Expressions of adoration pecking down my neck.
A unison sensuality that takes me to new dimensions
Where we want to be ,
where we are now ,
& where we’ve been
It all runs thorough me at once like lightening in the eye of the storm
Startling my peace and keeping me warm.
Calmly , lustfully, lovingly
and counteractively whole
I can crescendo the metaphors
And Selah on the tongue tied aphorism that is our love.
We are art in its most imperfect form
With a time signature on entirely new sheets harmonizing on a new quarter and wholistic down beats.
“We love to adore flowers in full bloom
But seldom do we take pleasure in watching them grow.”