- Books, Literature, and Writing
Whilst thou slept, a bitter cold ascended upon thee,
memories of a time when all things, were right in thine sight.
Verily thou said unto thee, “Doth not thine beauty keepest me ravaged”.
Thy lips pursed for a delicate kiss, moonbeams blazing forth from thy sight,
angst abounds as thy delicate touch breeches goosebumps along thine skin.
Woe to he that doth tear thee asunder, for my wrath shall be great upon him.
Whilst thou slept, thy dreams pervade a darkness so devoid of love.
Hadst, thou known of thine own love for thee....
dreams wouldst be filled with great brilliance,
as thine illuminating nature abounds,
thy thoughts wouldst not delve,
into the bleak.