Look at your face,
the luminous traces
draw the wonders of my gaze;
picture-perfect tapestry,
god-descended ancestry–
who am I to dream of your embrace?
Your lips are red; they're teasing me
with whispers of sweet fantasy
but I won't dare such blasphemy;
A modern-day Adonis,
blessed Aphrodite kiss–
who am I to even dream of it?
Look at your form,
the luminous traces
reflected in the way I stare;
beauty sculpted like a masterpiece,
bring forth a longing I should release–
who am I to you to ask for it?
YOU ARE READING
Abandoned
PoetryI come before you asking to come here and see- here lies a poetic anthology of pain, deception, and agony... Abandoned. (2024)
