Beauty is braille
written in the fingertips.

Never reading a word upon you,
              as my palms were pages.


And you were every word on them.

.
The sight of your femininity, beauty,
draws breath from your perfect form,
swaying, flirting, a stunning visual love,
with swoon fantasy and anticipated arousal.

The aroma of your perfume, honeysuckle,
drifts lazily from your elegant neck,
teasing, promising, a consenting floral love,
with delicate grace and scented arousal.

The tone of your voice, seductive,
velvet whispers from your deepest want,
lilting, singing, a desperate lyrical love,
with inviting sound and timbred arousal.

The taste of your mouth, sweetness,
drips honey from your delicate lips,
flowing, flooding, a desire sugared love,
with urgent passion and oral arousal.

The feel of your body, intimate,
drapes sensual from your soft skin,
clothing, wrapping, a flesh blanket love,
with spine tingles and fingertip arousal.

You fill up my senses, stunned,
conflicting feelings play with my mind,
heat, lust, a primal instinct love,
frozen in time and with frightening arousal.


© Pagan Paul (25/06/17)

If you are to leave, let me know not
If you shall will to say goodbye, don't
Instead, pack your things and leave
For I cannot bear the pain of your words
And I can only compare them the pain to a stab by a dagger
For what we had greatly invested in would be over
And moving on would be too hard a task
No explanation would befit such cruel an act
And no tears would wash away the pain
Though I'll still mourn and weep a river
If you are to leave my lover,
Just pack your things and leave
And let me be, let me weep, let me be
Just pack your things and leave