• alpha3 6w

    The golden of thine light

    Light me up like the shade of the bright, one that thine eyes beheld as the neon of the night then; do I preach the same for am I so oft a captive of thine muse that muse do I the same. Honoured will I be if am I conferred with the splash of thine affection, a splash for is it unconditional for must it be - for me to fall for thee; do I reminisce thy visage in the glint of clumsy an afternoon - oh! shall I beseech the same now for ineluctable an elixir was it for me; oh! will even the sacrosanct Providence be clasped in betwixt the golden of that departing twilight - why, petulant an eavesdropper is it not for cosseted is it. Have I not been the sweetness of the day, has the latter not been mine either, yet, seldom art we the lovers of each in the hour of the red, the white of the jasmine is inevitably the crux of every sight at, the mightiest is even servile to the fatigue of its own at, and the living corpse gets the softness of soothing a breeze palpable at. Do I trudge past breathlessness yet, do I breathe for will I have to; is there a scream, an utterance if is conferred, may the latter be heard as one of suffocation; should thy admirer be not loved back for its admiration of thee in secrecy... If be it thine command, shall I perish for must I be doomed in the priority than be alive for mere a sake of levity...