Words are my Ecstasy Triple Superlative

My the world I offerd you was a nebulas cloud of possibilities fillied with love and affection the like of which is difficult to find genially.

you mooned at me and exploded my nabulas cloud with your softly soken words and your comprehensible logic

my nearly lover course for my unrequited love, my melancholy, my sadness, my broken heart that I should stick togther with sapples each one piercing the walls of my core my pain….

goodbye my fasination with your milkey skin ends, my pain and careful intersection beings. facta non verba,  fallaces sunt rerum species, looks are a compliment to a personality nemo liber est qui corpori servit.aspectus ominum non et finitur

love is built not on looks but on affinity those who look to fall in love with superficialities beware because you are blinded to what there is before of you   

they make me want to melt . and at these times of melancholic reflectiveness they suit my mood rite down to a tee   

uniquelybold:

your skin milky whit. Pour as snow, your smile as complex as the mona lisa. complemented by the dones of your soul, the window of which your eyes like one thousand burning suns. your smell sweet as the pourest smelling red rose, would you be so sweet by any other name.

My rose, your were your tongue like a crown of thrones. cutting and filled with infinite wit… your tounge smove as honey your voice sweet as the nectar of the most pour sweet rose. how I long to have they in body and soul. 

One. slow slow dripping of time winding grinding passing. clearing the way for us like a fire though a isolated forest. if  one tree falls does it make a sound? like your mind it works in beautiful blissful isolationism. from the dirty world 

you are my pour rose. walk tall       

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: 
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; 
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest: 
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.