 |
| 'Breath Of Fire' by Trish |
Our mouths press in a perfect circle,
and your warm, sweet breath flows deep into me.
In my heart, I know, my breath does not flow.
Mine is a great yawning yowl,
that's barred, lest the mighty roar of sound
rip all to pieces.
Like a whirlwind, it would destroy all before it,
up, up into a whirling vortex of destruction and devastation,
before the tirade, if ever, was sated.
No comments:
Post a Comment