Bliss Be
Bliss is the lips of a lover.
Soft yet Harsh and,
Unchanging lips which spring words of love,
Upon ones breast.
Leaving it to,
Resonate hums of love,
Upon the winds wings.
Interring the very cores of,
Your body as if they were paths made for cupids arrows.
Interring your mind to have it think and say,
“I want a place of peace where love,
Can grow like the stems of a rose,
And have that rose open, so your lips can take in loves nectar.”
Copyright © Guy-Adler Dorelien | Year Posted 2010
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