• abbytattle

Brady Scott

How can One explain?

I’m drained,

Searching for a way to make tangible

The serenity of kissing you.

The feeling

Oozes from my lips,

It drips, like honey.

So sweet and tender.

Lay here with me forever, my love.

Cynics will protest,

And I confess,

I once believed that something so could not exist.

But it is not perfection

It is the imperfection

Love in Her purest form.

Just as Earth praises its faults,

For building up her canyons

I adore your short-comings

Perhaps more than your virtuosity.

Vital sources intertwined

Your fingers slip softly into mine

I am incessantly thine.

I love you.

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