firing heart in Poems

  • Feb. 17, 2014, 1:27 a.m.
  • |
  • Public

His eyes were blazing,

and like hands to a fire on a cold winter's day,

like a moth to a bright light,

my eyes stayed on his.

Time stopped.

Nothing else mattered,

except for the sweet heavenly taste,

of his lips on mine.


Loading comments...

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.