Platinum Gold
So tell me was your soul weaved from platinum gold, liquified hot, bold mold when cold.
Tell me was your soul seamed with blindfold string, piece by piece so effortlessly, spiritually free
Oh baby please tell me was your soul dipped in gleam, a bright white light beam, directly into your bloodstream
Don’t you see your soul fascinates me,
So old, uncontrolled water mold, where’s the threshold, how do I unfold all that you behold
So my soul is so full of grieve, qunderachieved, with a heart on my sleeve
What do you see when you perceive me spiritually?
My soul so bold, not dipped in gold but aged mold, so old, covered in coal, a dust bowl, Aurora circle
Maybe you can see my soul isn’t half as glistening clean, but still it’s a pretty mean warrior machine, buffering to sheen as I speak... could you trust me
Soulful, is so full, every inch of mineral, drenched gold, covered in steel wool, it’s beautiful, are we compatible, maybe my love is magical, or unfathomable, let’s not make this tragical, to be honest I’m a bit radical, maybe a bit unpractical,
But tell me was your soul weaved with platinum gold, liquified hot, bold mold when cold?
Copyright © Corissa Nohrenberg | Year Posted 2019
|