A stranger to the eye
Who became the apple of his eye
Her soul longed to waltz out of the body and land in the arms of his
Warned not to go there
Not to let the heart be swept off
Not to dwell on the possibility of a happy forever after
Fuck it she said
The heart wants what the heart wants
Jump into the fire now
Burnt fingers later
Silent was her conscience to his purpose
Kaleidoscope of emotions was her fuel and his downfall
Silent was her conscience to his purpose or rather his purpose to her conscience
Who gives a fuck about warnings
When the only connection is layered upon fatal feelings
Soulful fittings Timeless shiftings Emotions cascading on cushioned souls with fragile hearts that can’t decide whether to love or lust
but whatever it is
they want it to last
Like snakes shedding their skin
clothes discarded as though they serve no purpose
They just serve as shackles holding back the beauty of spirits inter-twining with a few ooooohs and aaaaaaahs
Ignited by her blind passion
The deeper he goes, the deeper she falls.
Down low she fell as his passion she felt when his spear he lashed
All negativity condemned
Lack of passion be damned Stripping naked without being ashamed, while exploring certain passions un-named
Beautiful melodies they made with the beautiful vibrations they claimed what is the beauty of love without hurt and what is the beauty of hurt without love?
“You are mine” ” I am yours” uttered by her
As she sees the beauty of the world in his eyes
The sun becomes the enemy
Keeping hearts from dancing to the rhythm of their music
Pumping harder than their owners….
A blast from the past
he texts, she smiles, she reads, she cries, wrong recipient….
Chants of gregorian symphonies ringing as they create everlasting memories never lasting
love overflowing while they’re souls are drowning
his arms weakened ’cause her soul is crippled and now their love dies before it’s wrinkled
Her love dying before it’s wrinkled saves her many sleepless nights crying
Tears nourishing the memories tucked into each wrinkle
As fingers trace the wrinkles
each memory awakens and hurts her anew.
Blasphemous thanks to the gods unknown for the gift and the curse of his warm arms.
Like the sound of a gun banging at the back of his ear
So is the sound of her tear and her voice crystal clear
A relationship less than a year
doomed and now he lives in fear
for her tear may no longer cleanse his conscience clear
A bag full of fear
she stands at the door
looks back, sheds a tear
and bows to the teacher that taught her how to love and lose
how to lose love
how to love loosely and just let loose
He that was her all and took her all
Now he’s left a Boy without a Girl…
Composed by: @NguduThePoet & @Mak_Nemz
Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.