What is love my dear,
a quiver to the heart?
A hand to hold, a song to sing?
A touch thing, a feel thing?
What am I to you?
I swear-
Your love is sweetest I've ever met,
but still I'm bitter smitten.
One touch is right,
one touch is wrong,
and if I cry you serenade me...
or shut me out!
I honestly still can't express myself to you
in a way that makes perfect sense.
And this touchy feely dance we've done,
has drawn me to the conclusion
that you couldn't describe my mind,
as well you could my breast.
We'll call it adolesence my dear.
Cupid at his best.
But I think it is time to grow up,
open up to chance,
challenge this wonderful mess!
We tolerate our worst,
we do love our best.
Sure! This sensory relationship
has past the test of time...
But the arrows barley hit the rind.
I want the sweetness that's inside.
Adding your comment: