From its present pathway part not!
Being everything which now thou art,
Be nothing which thou art not.
So with the world thy gentle ways,
Thy grace, thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise,
And love- a simple duty."
Blaine, lying on his stomach, rested his chin on his hand and looked down at the page of the book of poetry lazily. The book lay open on the naked back of Kurt, a few rays of sun filtering in and illuminating his pale skin.
"You should never stop reading poetry," sighed Kurt, clutching the pillow and his head turned toward Blaine. "You can make those boring words sound interesting."
"Poe's words are hardly boring, sir," commented Blaine, turning a page absently. Blaine's hand fell from the page and onto Kurt's skin, his fingers languidly tracing patters down his back, raising goosebumps o