Fingertips

August 4, 2013

My finger tips trace the shape of my lips.

Over and over again.

Will there ever be a day,

When they will be touched by something new?

A dreamers love of intent desire,

Grows deeply.

My desire grows deeply.

Your lips against mine,

With not a care in the world about oxygen.

To look into those earth shaking eyes,

Is like staring into the soul of an angel.

Is this what you call love?

Or is it lust?

If my heart has eyes,

Can it see all the good in you?

Can it love you for who you are, instead of who you should be?
I think so.

As the night continues,

My fingers are slowly removed and I fall into a distant sleep.

Only to continue in my dreams the thought of you and I.

With the vision of a diamond ring,
And hearts intertwined.