International love is but a memory
Like an espresso it's rich, smoothness is reserved only but for one individual
And until thee may claim it thou shall hold on to it
Sipping delicatly is but a taste that escorts one on a journey into a night of hospitality; a dance.
The night rose blooms
A change is conducted and transforms within my body.
'Do you feel the same'
Rosemary and lavender taint my senses like a traffic jam in New York
Trailing beind the scent is faint and the night rose had long closed itself
The white lotus, stained red
The hidden knife plunges deeply into my heart; for sure it has left a scar
Thus international love is but a memory.
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The Scars Tell (poetry)
PoetryI JUST MAKE UP RANDOM BALLADS, HIAKU, POETRY, I THOUGHT THEY MAY SOUND COOL. YOU NEVER KNOW UNLESS YOU TRY RIGHT.
