between the folds of paper,
i leave love's tenderest kiss.
from the heart to the mind
the verse of thoughts flow.
veins do not course with blood,
but with breathing, living ink.
they bleed themselves empty
to fill pages with our dreams.
must i depend on such simple wisps of night?
upon wings of fragile ink, trust my dreams to fly?
these swirls of pure, black ink
intertwine with my affections.
the portrait they have painted,
i hold ever more dearly.
but, i will not speak of this.
rather, i bury it with the pen.
would i, to any ear, share this beautiful truth?
upon a breath of wind, risk my greatest wealth?
like a rose before it's bloom,
who would pluck it from it's stem?
i cannot take the life i seek to win.
i must release it from my thoughts,
where the sun will never shine.
i will not hinder escape with words.
would i hold captive, the one i truly love?
upon such a faint path be a guide by night?
no, i will wash these dreams away
with the tides of my remorse.
beneath a rain of crimson tears,
i purge this page of it soul.
in time, it will be revived,
if my love holds dear and true.
between the folds of paper,
i've left love's tenderest kiss.
