Kiss

The kiss....
lips of pure bliss
graceful mistress of my relieved stress
In beauty you are dressed
In enjoyable pain that I do not regret,
days of your walking steps
But you I do not, never forget
great enjoyment,
The sweat of our caress.
You are my muse
Driven words of abuse
that maim the pain when am only with you
you heal my wounds,
thorns from being born in Earths womb
So let it be, the kiss of sweet antiquity
Let it Cripple me, burn my flesh to the third degree!
Like your lips, makes me feverish,
When thy kiss on to me...breath!
During the season of the falling leave