(no subject)
You are my Art. You are the Beauty, Life, and Soul of the Everlasting Core. Gently nested in a tulip among the Circus Disease, I will keep you safe from the plague. Existing in the essence of Self, you are far too exquisite to touch. My hands are so dirty, your Body is so pure. White ebbing lust flower, how I love you.
I am not beautiful. It is a mere reflection of the Fire you breathed into me. You, who injects raw liquid Passion into my Veins, I do not quite know how to grasp the Concept. I had forgotten what it was to Live until your soft broken words wrapped around my soul. You speak in Colors, vivid and untouchable. My eyes break into a thousand shards at the sight of them. But I would have them break a thousand times more than ever let this sweet Pain cease.
I am not beautiful. It is a mere reflection of the Fire you breathed into me. You, who injects raw liquid Passion into my Veins, I do not quite know how to grasp the Concept. I had forgotten what it was to Live until your soft broken words wrapped around my soul. You speak in Colors, vivid and untouchable. My eyes break into a thousand shards at the sight of them. But I would have them break a thousand times more than ever let this sweet Pain cease.