My dear missus,
There is something acutely amiss
Between the multitude of kiss
That lingers down my hollow back,
Mixing together to form a soundtrack.
I see the look in your eyes,
The untruth deceit belies,
The haunting of the ghosts
That sails on black wings from coast to coast.
Your fingers twist and twine,
Your spine arches like a feline;
Sighs escape your precious lips,
The air, it cuts and swirls and whips.
Your ankles petite,
Your wrists even more sweet
Than the blood that pumps beneath your bones;
The moans that blossom on your cheek of thrones.
Heavy lies the thorn of crowns.
I see your head drop steadily down,
And I must confess that though I know that this is wrong,
I will just steadily plow on along,
For no words escape your enclosed cage,
Although your tongue most likely rage,
I will place my lips upon yours,
Slowly drowning the both of us in our own respective wars.