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| Over and over and over and over and over again your insensitive tides wash over me shivering from the chill of you no longer can I stand here, at your feet drenched in your passiveness the gritty sands of your "sorry's" forgiveness is a virture that even my heart will not permit you to abuse so my skin is bronzed by your soft glares and firm kisses so my appednages and soul are buried far within your depths my eyes and fingers twitch with desire for your salts to penetrate and assuage my open wounds -so I owe my soul to you... must I tread and drudge myself through the cold, insensitive inundations still with no palpable undercurrent? |
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