Infatuation held on a cloudless moon
I would sing to your whispers
Of subtle snickering
But my heart was yours
And the poor bastard is trapped
While my feathered anger still believes
In your storms of trust
For what never belonged
Time fills gutters
That run full through the night
Tangled lips that would be an answer to prayer
Prayer that is never the answer
To a lack of genuflection
A lack of passion
For worshipping love
Filed under: poetry

Sense some disappointment here, as if someone built up expectations and then let you down.
*smooches*
Tangled lips..
I think I remember that…LOL
this was a really good piece honey…
thanks, Dennis…..so glad you liked it! *smiles and smooches*
and thanks, Mike….yea….sometimes i think i dream love too often….*grins and kisses*