This Gift of Blood & Beauty

A Writer's Soul

It is a gift of beauty and blood, though I’ve no name for it.
It is a feeling too weak to be branded as love,
Yet, too intense to be a simple infatuation in my mind.
So I settle for feeling you, in every form you come.
Is it possible to be intoxicated on a feeling?

As sunsets fade into sunrises, my eyes roll to the back of my head
My control gone, my heart wild, but I’m too high to come back down now.
You lips sing notes onto my skin, and I struggle to hit the notes with raspy moans.
When the song comes to an end, the notes are too high, you watch me fall apart,
Under a flame that burns others from my thoughts,
And spreads like wildfire across my chest.

So when the magic fades and the stars dim from behind my eyes,
There are…

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