While she drowns
in his insufficient love, he fills her heart with wet lies. His true suma is
clouded in her passion stained eyes. Once caught in his false warmth she is
ever lost, for his anatomy is a hospice with a more craggy bed.
His touch sears her pale flesh but she feels only the brush of a cool mountain breeze. His breath is foul and strict with the essence of death but her sense is only that of a flower garden in spring.
Their stumble to destiny's mark will remove her youth and innocence. He will emerge vibrant and strong for he long ago paid death's glorious toll, and knows well the frigid and dark corridors of Hell's library.
His touch sears her pale flesh but she feels only the brush of a cool mountain breeze. His breath is foul and strict with the essence of death but her sense is only that of a flower garden in spring.
Their stumble to destiny's mark will remove her youth and innocence. He will emerge vibrant and strong for he long ago paid death's glorious toll, and knows well the frigid and dark corridors of Hell's library.
-Johnny V.
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