Soft, the petals lay <br />upon your ivory throat, <br />tracing their scent <br />into your sweat. <br />Don't fear the thorns, <br />their teeth gently slide <br />across your neck <br />where I stake my claim. <br />Breathe, sweet morbid soul <br />the heady scent <br />of your final breath <br />you forsake for me. <br />Lay at restless peace <br />upon this crimson tide <br />of crushed petal sheets <br />laid bare for you. <br />At the hint of the moon <br />you will rise again, <br />surrender each tomorrow <br />to my wanton will. <br /> <br />1/10/08<br /><br />Viola Grey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/billy-s-kiss/
