Art of my Heart….

Entrapped in this man, a beautiful sight.

With him, I don’t think, i could ever fight.

Draped across him.

Entangled within his arms,

Hes like Mr Perfect, my bodyguard.

Get me out safely, rescue me from the grave yard,

of this, my blacked out heart.

One fucked up piece of art.

I could quite possibly, give him my heart.

Hmm but would he still want it? Have it?

With all these,

my battle scars??

He makes me think with such fond regards,

of his muscular body,

Mr Die hard.

Right from the start, he’s shown me his heart,

to him I could sing,

maybe flourish into this beautiful art,

one of which,

would never fall apart.

For this heart of mine a turbulent thing,

for most of these men, not easy to win.

Nothing can make it, beat more,

from deep down within,

than a man that makes me so happy, i sing.

Fill me with passion, you have in your heart

and i will turn it, for you,

into beautiful art.

Black hair, Brown eyes,

When i look deep into him, i fantasise.

Six foot 4, with a tongue that can tantalise.

With him i romanticize,

he gives me butterflys, then chills down my spine.

Its not dramatized but sure he brings me up,

makes me feel some what glamorized.

I guess that only time will tell,

if with me he can truly gel.

N.T.J 21/03/2016

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.