Your love
is a seismic,
unsteady wave
of the ocean---
crashing my
guard castles,
crossing my
coastlines.
Ineffably
beautiful,
that will always
make me dance
through the rhythm.
Scattering my pieces
in place--creating an
inpeccable mess.
Your love is the lightning
in the midst of a storm.
A hurdling, shocking and
unpredictable lightning that
is always keeping me distance
from the chaos. Loud and clear;
not a spur of words from a filthy
mouth.
Your love is the book I will
always love. Every page has
mystery; intriguing and perfectly
beautiful. An open book; announced
and well-plotted. Rough, yet gluttony;
flowery and deep.
Your love is the thorn in my
red bloody roses. Sharp and
edgy; painful and agonizing,
but layered and staired; a step-by-
step process.
After and beyond the thorns
is a vulnerable thirsty red of
affection; a warm blanket in
winter; a steaming coffee in a cold
morning; a bloody red rose worth
fighting for.
Your love is something between,
through and beyond the lane.
Sheathed by the strong steel; caged
and difficult to play.
To put the long abridged,
your love, is the love I will
never have.
Signing off,
thescriptwriter
