In the still of the evening
without a soul to intrude
i let my heart ache
and try to worship your mistresshood
the flicking flame of the candle
invite my submittance to your embrace
a deleberate attempt to look in to your eyes
to feed you warmth, to feel your grace
your swollen eyes reflect the tale
of forgotten knights and adored gods
i wander for years in those lost terrains
and come back home with your tears and applaud
is it about your body, your smell?
(I am not Marv, I dunno how angels smell)
Is it about the way you laugh
is it about the way you say nothing
or is it just an obscure desire to chaff.
