Night Time Loss

Of want for nothing but your touch

Of withered souls

Of wearied rest

Of wanted skin

And blissful breast

Oh the pangs of anger rest on me

They test and tease and

Tear apart

Alarm my soul

To tethered tongue

And seem to beat a

Blithered storm

To death the storms which beat on

With beats so stern

Beating with a weathered worn

And tattered soul

Beat the beats of wanted breasts

And soulful souls at all unrest

Oh dammit all

Come forth my love

any chance, console at best?

Come my bear and dance this morn

Dance and be with me your mate

In honest union

With much haste


Be with me

With much haste

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s