|| Noun ||
Burn burn burn my little sparkle light
Burn boldly burn them blight
Along his blazing path wildfires sing
Footsteps so light we think it the beating of angels’ wings
Soothe soothe soothe my vivacious lark
Soothe my worried joints with your gentle marks
He maps valleys and mountains with heavy breaths
Plunging deep and inwards he reaches to unventured depths
Dance dance dance my circus acrobat
Dance for these eyes alone and put me in a trance
He vanishes by dawn break with no sign of his whereabouts
Like dust that catches light — in and out
And in and out.
You try to break the cycle but it goes on and on and on. You never want to stay and you never want to leave thus you go in and out, and in and out. There’s a fine line between loving someone and plain addiction.
” I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. ” – Bright Star : Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawn, John Keats