Burning with the heat of touch,
delicate porclin dancing apon upon my skin,
flickers a flame within my eyes.
Ther deserted washes of colors,
painting the nothingness around me
as I find you out,
Flay you alive,
you color the air with your smooth voice.
Its as if time has stood still waiting for our moment to pass.
Lasting an eternity,
lasting a second.
© Copyright 2016 A Dead Poet. All rights reserved.