Her

Life without blood and tears would be pointless. Nothing to care for, days spent searching for that something, that anything, to fill in that hole in your heart made for protection; the opportunity to feel the virtues of being someones savior, protector, lover, friend. I found my life, my blood, my tears, in the wide eyes of Her. Blood and tears would exit my body in any notion of harm to my Her. Her skipped breaths are my life support, breaths I survive upon richly. I hear her heart sing songs of love, and feel it pulsate beats of fear, for she is as optimistic as the day before, fearing what the day may bring, but lives through it when the sun raises with joy and no regrets. Her laughter shakes my very soul with a sense of blessing, feeling blessed that I am the presence of such beauty. She is my will to do better, to learn more, talk less, listen more. The batting of her eyes sets off hurricane winds, with the strength of her being. But as strong as my Her may be, she is softer than anything this world can create. Her hands are of silk and warm milk, her lips are as full as they want to be, bouncing the softest of kisses of love when we separate. Her tongue tastes as sweet as sugar itself, cool and comforting to mine. Her hips fit my hands so well, I never want to let go. Her flower is one of the softest, most intriguing body parts of my Her. Both sides are equally as soft as the other, too smooth to grasp but tempting enough to make me try. This is one part that can't fit in my hands, but still I try anyway. Her breasts are as golden as a lions mane. Grasping my eyes when exposed. A perfect slope to the chestnut breasts are colored nipples that seem to highlight these mounds. They are as moody as Her, feeling velvet one week, bold and daring the next. They are the warmest sensation my lips and tongue has ever felt, hardening with every touch of my lips and tongue. She is my blood, she is my tears. Everything I would live and die for, she is my Her.