Sunday, 16 November 2014

©Ilisa Millermoon Intuitive Energy 
Artist  www.ilisamillermoon.com
My face was smudged and eyes a fountain   
Which gushes so bitter a river of bleeding love, 
I made response to him with bashful forehead.
“O, of the other lovers dishonour and flight,
Why promise the meagre heart great love 
Then will it away and impel it out?”
Love was my master and the author of history, 
In the mysterious book of my maiden story, 
The fairy tale that will never be happily thereafter.

Behold the god, of whom I have turned to; 
Do thou protect me from him, the heartbreaker 
For he does make my veins and pulses tremble.
“Thee it behoves to take move on with life,” 
Responded Mira, when she beheld me weeping, 
“If from this pain thou wouldst escape;
Because this man, whom you cry about, 
Suffers not, you were one of many on his way, 
That he devoured, and it destroys you.”
And I saw love so malign and ruthless, 
That it ever delusions and lusts for cherry, 

And after shag is lustier than before.

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