The Tour
The Tour
The pupils of your eyes,
Are the steering of my heart:
Driving my emotions cruelly,
Pulling the gear indifferently.
Heading towards the unknown:
Perhaps to treacherous time known.
The wave of the whispering wind,
Wooing the gentility of the breeze,
Soothes my curious members,
Whether or not we're lounging into danger.
Blinded by affection as you and I,
Your grip slid down the steering,
While its velocity is high,
And the break failing and failing.
Now, we're broken all over:
That being the fuel to our ember.
©2018
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