Theatre of Love
In a mid summer afternoon my blind kiss on your sloppy forehead will put you in the circs where you cannot deny my further approaches,
your overwhelming mind and trembling body will make your heart numb and lips dry,
the deserted neck of yours will wait for the caravan of my soft adore,
your mushy cheeks below those mystical eyes will thirst for my tranquil touch,
those deep black hair will have the urge to be spoiled with extreme pamper of my lust,
your paragon chest will cut my tenderloin heart into pieces in such a way that I will lose my robust to go down that smooth savannah with no regrets and despair,
in such moment of amalgamation I will try to rest my case to be rested in your restless body in peace keeping the rest for some winter morning or for spring vibe,
hereafter my vagabond journey in your addictive surface will compel me to rehabilitate myself into your chasmic and underlined mind;
and if it is not love, I declare swearing on our serene vicinity that there is no love,
but there is and will always be as we are in the theatre of love where we are trying to play the best of our role to win the hearts!
