Though my words and phrases do not feed on real emotions of a breathing heart, I often find them submerged deep into reveries.
Last night, while my one breath was hurriedly passing the baton to another, memories of our first meeting crossed my mind. Though my words and phrases have always been downright unromantic, I often find them savouring on your aroma from our last rendezvous. I am inch-perfect about all your countenances. Untouched yet gratifying. I could have stood next to you forever, keeping my fears and fingers aside; and you have seen the worst of me, undescribable and mystifying, yet you choose to succumb to your disposition. I call you kind, my love.
Though my words and phrases always fail to extricate our romance from amorous entanglement, I often find them untouched and pure. Some days carry the legacy of my words running through your heart as a dagger, some days I remain quiet and tamed. In the back of my burning mind, I call you kind, my love.
Though my words and phrases do not feed on real emotions of a breathing heart, I often find them savouring on your seraphic aroma.
© Cereus Florus. 2018.