visions of my own

preferred color, —
the touch of yours
in words combined
from music brought
by susurrus of muses
to allow me to say, —
your touch resembles
the whisper of angels,
delicately manifested
into a part of me,
where is impossible
to oppose resistance
but only to create
visions of my own,
with increased passions
for making you feel
as if I'd be everywhere



Explore Popular Posts From This Blog

Good Sail Through My Allusive Stories

her world

hard-rock-lover

wolf

i'll come running

where I wait

les mots bleus

kiss me...

shh... breathe...

strange color blue