Real LoveA Poem by Loewe
I am the bleeding heart of the masses
The bitter taste pooling on your tongue The wind that cuts you deep on a long night I am the morning warmth against your flesh All your fears are swallowed by my touch With all this you deny that I am real Even though I know you feel You feel the beating of the truth But you will deny it until the proof is clear © 2012 Loewe |
Stats
160 Views
Added on June 7, 2012 Last Updated on June 8, 2012 |

Flag Writing