on the cusp of a match

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

4 Responses

  1. Sense some disappointment here, as if someone built up expectations and then let you down.

    *smooches*

  2. Tangled lips..

    I think I remember that…LOL

    this was a really good piece honey…

  3. thanks, Dennis…..so glad you liked it! *smiles and smooches*

  4. and thanks, Mike….yea….sometimes i think i dream love too often….*grins and kisses*

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