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Literature Text
These are my notes
On love and lust:
One is true, and
The other is just.
Love is watching the pianist
Play, admiring at a distance.
Lust is watching the fingers dance,
Mouth watering to offer assistance.
Lust is the demon
In the middle of the night.
Love is the shelter,
The tunnel before the light.
Love is the enemy,
The inhibitor of the soul.
Lust is the freedom,
The bridge above the troll.
Lust is the hated,
That moment of sin.
Love is the saviour,
That we are lost within.
But lust brings joy,
And that fun little spark.
Love brings safety,
And saves broken hearts.
These are my notes
On love and lust
One is true and,
The other is just.
I do not ask,
For one or the other
Just that freedom be free,
And that freedom not smother.
So while where here now,
Decide amongst yourselves,
Which is the true?
And which is the just?
On love and lust:
One is true, and
The other is just.
Love is watching the pianist
Play, admiring at a distance.
Lust is watching the fingers dance,
Mouth watering to offer assistance.
Lust is the demon
In the middle of the night.
Love is the shelter,
The tunnel before the light.
Love is the enemy,
The inhibitor of the soul.
Lust is the freedom,
The bridge above the troll.
Lust is the hated,
That moment of sin.
Love is the saviour,
That we are lost within.
But lust brings joy,
And that fun little spark.
Love brings safety,
And saves broken hearts.
These are my notes
On love and lust
One is true and,
The other is just.
I do not ask,
For one or the other
Just that freedom be free,
And that freedom not smother.
So while where here now,
Decide amongst yourselves,
Which is the true?
And which is the just?
Literature
Decadent Love
You are as fine as the french silk sheets you sleep in.
Flawless, soft and decadent.
You are the Domaine Romanée-Conti
Passing through your soft pursing lips,
kissing the crystal rim of my glass.
You are as breathtaking as midnight in Paris,
A sight briefly seen as I lean across your lap
But still imprinted, and sealed with your kiss.
You are New York's Golden Opulence Sundae,
the 23-carat gold leaf that you peel off
And gently place on my tongue.
You are the Bugatti Veyron,
racing through the Overseas Highway in the Florida Keys,
with me, staring out at the vibrant blues as we speed passed.
You are the Museo Guggenheim of Spain
T
Literature
Love Is...
Love Is…
Love is patient, love is kind, it does not boast, it does not envy,
It does not delight in evil; but with the truth it does revel in
Love isn’t proud, it isn’t dishonorable, it doesn’t record right or wrongs, nor is it self-seeking,
It always protects, it always hopes, it will always carry on despite oppositions
Love, when it is true, will never fail you or me,
It will take two beings and form them into one,
Love will always conquer evil, no matter the circumstances
It will live on forever and ever, it will never be done
Love lives on through children, and their children’s children; this is why
Literature
settle
on these nights
i seemed to bleed
something beautiful
atop of blue bird's
bones.
breathing
breaths
of
frost
lashes.
stars settling
in
eyes of spring,
budding blooms
and
sure-shell things
but heart cries
for blossoms
the fall of gentle
white
rough my bones
in winter's chill-
where my
heart
used to be
so
s t i l l
.
.
.
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A friend of mine was discussing how he believed that love and lust worked; if you were in love than you didn't need lust. And the words just started formulating in my head over the course of the day. Enjoy.
© 2013 - 2024 Dominion-of-Cain
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