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Even when it’s a no, you got me running to you
How do I pen blues at your scene? The apple of thy eyes, a gem among thorns.
Her highness ...
goddess (over)looks, Venus isn’t a pure explanation. Fresher than calamus, myrrh isn’t close to the meaning. Caught in your nets, a blade over the neck(s).
Obsession without borders, retell the tale of a cursed heart. Soon, you will be overtaking the love I had in stock for my pen
My soul’s self(let me call you my own) ta-ta to hostage. Even at the cease of the full moon, our love goes on.
About the Creator
Fred Musoke
I want to give my writing a fragrance. I mean, that redolence which won’t only outlast my generation, but will also nudge the souls on Mars.
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