- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Grace Of The Myst
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Eyes lower to the grace of the mist.
Hair of gold falling before her, complimenting her pause.
Soft lips part, to whisper to Saints open hearts.
Arms wrapping around her form as if to hold the emptiness felt within.
Steps that struggle with the thought of never returning to familiar ground.
Tears surrender to her broken heart.
Teasing to uplift her tattered spirit.
Yearning for renewal, or a calming glance,
that only her eyes can look upon.
Moonlight that magnifies what had been kept from onlookers.
A pleasant aroma that threatens a harsh memory.
Curling up where no one can see, away from reality.
Breathing softly, embracing what was taken long ago.
