Aurthor: Scarlet F. B. Longbottom
E-mail: scarletflongbottom@fictionworld.com
A/N: This is my first poem/soon to be fanfic. I'm very proud of it. Hope you like it too!
Summary: This is Harry's POV. He can't decide between the love of Ron or the lust of Draco. Or both maybe?
Warning, warning: This peom contains Slash. So if m/m (or maybe soon to be in this case m/m/m) relationships bother you, I would suggest you stop reading NOW!
Pairings: Harry/Ron, Harry/Draco
Rating: R for some sexual scenes, but it's not exactly graphic so don't freak.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, Ron or Draco (sadly). They belong to the great J. K. Rowling. But the plot is all mine babe!!!
Two Love Paradise or Hell?
A man with two loves.
It happens often enough, that is true.
It does not happen so often enough where there is
not one man I love, but two.
One has fiery, flaming red hair that I love so much,
and pouty, fiery red lips.
One has hair of silken silver, and the ability to hypnotize me
with a single twist of his lust ful hips.
Hip warm, pink, freckled skin,
quivers at my slightest touch.
His lips send waves of warmth through me...
those fiery lips I love so much...
His creamy, milk white skin,
so cold, denies my touch.
Always seeks to take over my control.
Always desires to be less gentle than rough.
He makes love to me gently.
Never his pleasure before mine.
As is done in return, he loves every crevice.
His love slows down all space and time.
He makes love to me lustfully,
and for the most part, his pleasure only.
Yet I yearn for his iced touch.
It burns and chills me with intrigue.
After love-making so gentle,
we hold each other in an embrace pure and true.
He always makes me regret, in another days night,
the lustful and heated things I am sure to do.
After sex, bodies riddled and quaking,
He rests a while. So many words I wish to exchange, to say...
but then he is soon far gone, too far for my love.
Always gone, before night leads to a questioned day.
His gentle, warm, soothing love
is something, a pure thing, I can not live without.
His caring, embracing love makes me know,
even in a thousand hells I can not carry a doubt.
His lustful, needful and heated love
is something I dare not live without.
His scorching, controlling, yet undying love makes me know,
even though he denies it, he shares my love even though the day is out.
Thier loves are like two rivers.
Flowing seperately through my heart.
If they were to come together, would they flow peacefully.
Or rip each other apart?
TBC
A/N: Please review. And if you hadn't picked it up yet, I'm taking turns describing Draco and Ron in Harry's POV, starting with Ron. I'm going to make a chapter to this poem in the future that is going to be a full length fanfiction with bits of poems in it occasionally.
And a friend Lil Mizz Dee Aquarius for reading my poem when no one else would.
E-mail: scarletflongbottom@fictionworld.com
A/N: This is my first poem/soon to be fanfic. I'm very proud of it. Hope you like it too!
Summary: This is Harry's POV. He can't decide between the love of Ron or the lust of Draco. Or both maybe?
Warning, warning: This peom contains Slash. So if m/m (or maybe soon to be in this case m/m/m) relationships bother you, I would suggest you stop reading NOW!
Pairings: Harry/Ron, Harry/Draco
Rating: R for some sexual scenes, but it's not exactly graphic so don't freak.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, Ron or Draco (sadly). They belong to the great J. K. Rowling. But the plot is all mine babe!!!
Two Love Paradise or Hell?
A man with two loves.
It happens often enough, that is true.
It does not happen so often enough where there is
not one man I love, but two.
One has fiery, flaming red hair that I love so much,
and pouty, fiery red lips.
One has hair of silken silver, and the ability to hypnotize me
with a single twist of his lust ful hips.
Hip warm, pink, freckled skin,
quivers at my slightest touch.
His lips send waves of warmth through me...
those fiery lips I love so much...
His creamy, milk white skin,
so cold, denies my touch.
Always seeks to take over my control.
Always desires to be less gentle than rough.
He makes love to me gently.
Never his pleasure before mine.
As is done in return, he loves every crevice.
His love slows down all space and time.
He makes love to me lustfully,
and for the most part, his pleasure only.
Yet I yearn for his iced touch.
It burns and chills me with intrigue.
After love-making so gentle,
we hold each other in an embrace pure and true.
He always makes me regret, in another days night,
the lustful and heated things I am sure to do.
After sex, bodies riddled and quaking,
He rests a while. So many words I wish to exchange, to say...
but then he is soon far gone, too far for my love.
Always gone, before night leads to a questioned day.
His gentle, warm, soothing love
is something, a pure thing, I can not live without.
His caring, embracing love makes me know,
even in a thousand hells I can not carry a doubt.
His lustful, needful and heated love
is something I dare not live without.
His scorching, controlling, yet undying love makes me know,
even though he denies it, he shares my love even though the day is out.
Thier loves are like two rivers.
Flowing seperately through my heart.
If they were to come together, would they flow peacefully.
Or rip each other apart?
TBC
A/N: Please review. And if you hadn't picked it up yet, I'm taking turns describing Draco and Ron in Harry's POV, starting with Ron. I'm going to make a chapter to this poem in the future that is going to be a full length fanfiction with bits of poems in it occasionally.
And a friend Lil Mizz Dee Aquarius for reading my poem when no one else would.