Your Exotic Countenance
Ready to be broken she pulls away so gently.
A word not spoken, for they knew it had to be.
Drizzling rain coming down, making hardly a sound.
Forest scents fill the air, like tantalizing incense,
potent and alluring, beckoning my call to thee.
But this is not to be, heavy breathing no more,
tender hearts broken.
Charming that you are, your heart governs,
breaking my tender heart, no one to console.
It is you that I adore, caresses wanting to restore.
But tortured that I am, not to be reborn,
destiny engulfing my soul, answers of no form.
Melting away I am this day,
remembering your sweetness, so sublime.
Your hips, your back, your ample breast,
never ever to be mine.
Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2007
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