Monday, November 15, 2021

Wilding Tongue


In a single ray of hope

His words plumed out the chest

Heavy to the heart

But now or never was the situation

As from seventh grade

He had kept them all in

Drowning at every sighting of her.



Her whispers being his secret joys

Yet havoc wrecking

That he was not the one

The one ploughing the heart to seventh highs

The one tossing her blankets in blunts of thoughts

The one running her wild in yearning of holdings

As she sought the Barton of finding her one.


So it was the last of the dance

Laced out in hurricanes pressure

As she was the Precious he sought for

And today, words had to spill on her.

"Would you be....

the sun on the horizon of day."

Trailing the atmosphere.


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