Thursday, August 20, 2009

Bruises.


Gentle artist with eyes of fire.

His honey poured lips of snow dripped innocence linger against mine.

Breath of my breath, skin-sweet-laid flowing dreams.

Flesh against flesh under an early morning star. 

Like fragile, fluttering wings we slip, falling in a graceful arch as one, and I am lost in his ancient luring song, in the temple of his flame...



Why always same bruises, same questions with no answer?

Why always beeing a criminal?

Don't judge me. Don't hurt me.

...Colour me.

Lead me like this picture does.



1 comment:

addicted said...

Vine rar ce-i drept insa daca o prinzi si-o vrei musai, o pastrezi.Mie mi-a scapat de atatea ori in trecut si nu pentru ca vroiam sa o scap ci pentru ca altii mi-o luau si acum am ajuns sa ma bucur c-au facut asta c-altfel nu primeam ce am acum! Fericire deplina, pe el, pe NOI!Ceea ce vreau sa zic e ca.. daca ceva tine putin sau deloc asta inseamna ca nu e sa tina si ca urmeaza ceva mai bun pe viitor. Totul in viata se intampla cu un scop. Am simti.o pe pielea mea!
Ma intind si devin plictisitoare i know .. Scuze!
Blogul tau e super cute si foarte cald ...
Kisses :*