Ves al contingut principal

Sting of love


Fan me with words,
flutter me intensely,
spare no herbs,
mustard or cherries.

Salvage your lawn,
ease me at large,
ryhme me 'til dawn,
with no money charge.

Cherish my hands,
sing below my chin,
sweep me off my feet,
erase all of my sins.

Talk about me,
motion your wit,
we'll bathe in ease...
make me a myth.

I long for the forbidden fruit, I kiss the thorns upon my side, drink from lemon drops...


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