Thursday, December 11, 2008
An Open letter to the one who makes my dreams
Thoughts are but a fragment of my dreams, sometimes broken in tiny little pieces that feel like sand between my fingers, rough yet teasing, but sometimes, like beautiful wild flowers carressing my cheek with soft petals and enticing my mind with sweet smelling perfume
You are my thoughts, not a fragment of my imaginations, but real, thick skin, a sculpted chin, strong arms and the most alluring voice
You make my thoughts,I smell you in the wafting scents while in my sleep i dream, a mix of musk and cinnamon, embodied in a bottle that could be named rouge, deep, loving and even heart breaking; dangerous.
You are my dreams, sometimes broken, and sadness touches my brow, but sometimes,you are like the sweet humming bird mingling with my senses, and when i wake my mind wanders into what the day may hold, the sun rays stealing through my blinds, in my mind i sing a song that could be you;
You make my dreams, dew drops of paradise wrapped in stories that only my imagination can tell, playing with my mind in ways that quicken the pulse in my chest, your lips that reveal that wicked and wild smile and your eyes are as strong as a hangmans noose, holding me captive under your gaze
You are a not a fragment of my imagination, you are my thoughts, you make my thoughts, you are my dreams, you make my dreams...