The Gift
Friday, September 19th, 2003Always grew layers of slime
Around my attitude.
This male species
On the earth,
Is good for nothing.
I gathered this muck
Since
I forget to remember.
Then I met him,
His crystal clear
Jet black eyes,
Staring into mine.
Without threatening me,
Just staring.
I felt his petal soft
Warm gaze,
On my face.
It seems
Some of the ice,
Around my heart is,
melting.
His touch was
Not fake,
Absolutely unadulterated.
Always rubs away
Some of the layers,
Of […]
