Clarissa, I did just miss you on your way out of the hall, catching the most insufficient of glances of your fair countenance as your crossed the street, however I was inspired to write this to you,
This morning I watched the sun rise,
I spent the next hour working on words to rhyme,
No more sighs.
My fingers tracing letters on your skin,
He says, words of love
She says, words of sin.
The hungry look in your eyes,
The glimpse of your hungry soul.
Open your soul, Open your eyes.
Is it that I have no conscience?
Or, am I the first to just accept?
Allow yourself to be happy,
I want to write a poem
where the second line doesn't end
in a synonym for chasteness.
I want to write a poem
about when Toran Himself covers our entwined forms with His smile,
and a cloak of fortification.
25,000 true
Arkolio de'Averlain