07-13-2017, 08:54 PM
There's light without a lit fire
But without loving the warm
Which burns deeply as a pyre
Into the light of my firestorm
Are honeysuckles at my feet
And waters to wash my face
Greedy fingers ready to meet
A scorching body to embrace
They aren’t poems nor roses
You can harvest from my lap
They are thistles and proses
You gain from me with a jab
But since you still want me
The passion that still wham
Give me a sign if you agree
Let's be lovers without sham
But without loving the warm
Which burns deeply as a pyre
Into the light of my firestorm
Are honeysuckles at my feet
And waters to wash my face
Greedy fingers ready to meet
A scorching body to embrace
They aren’t poems nor roses
You can harvest from my lap
They are thistles and proses
You gain from me with a jab
But since you still want me
The passion that still wham
Give me a sign if you agree
Let's be lovers without sham