Words
Him
A hairlength of your raven locks as clues for me to follow your trail and never loose it again
One stroke of black ink to dye my name on your skin
White blade to pierce my soul, freezing desert when the heart becomes numb, even worse than the wild pain
Crimson silk, like the crown on your head, Red roses like the blood from the wound in your heart that passion inflicted
A hand that learns how to grab and never let go
Hands too gentle and reverent to grab and never let go
Pure bliss and the dizziness as my lips adore your skin
Reveries made real, absurd whispers dancing in the air as you take what was yours since the beginning
A length of years to tie the souls we dyed, peace as white sprout finally blossoms into a glorious red orchid
A length of silk to tie them together like they were meant to be.