deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tediferous
I want you to know the man I see.
He amazes me, and his heart is a gentle hummingbird.
The taste of his love, is akin to fire in my soul.
His hands are soft and silky like taffeta as he traverses the curves in my grooves as if he were mining treasure from within the tectonic shifts, of our ever evolving bond.
He is intelligent, kind, and softly spoken.
His kiss, a lingering promise of soft whispers that calm my inner chaos. His touch, the balm to my unspoken complexity in which he revels within, with much uncertainty.
His love, became the architecture of my design, powerful beyond recognition.
He is the cure, for my imsomnia, the right to all my wrong.
His creativity, heals the wounds unseen and his playfulness, is generous. He is vigilant in protecting his love, and harnesses his emotions to dispel any doubt.
He says what he means, and means what he says because he knows how much corrosion can occur from doubt.
His love remains a secret, even when spoken for he knows where his heart lingers, upon the balustrade of truth & honor.
His gentle but firm ways make him assertive, there is no space for ambiguity.
He is comfortable in his own skin, free from the bondage of social status, and others expectations even when they assert their conflicting beliefs upon him.
His wisdom, unparalleled and acquired through experiential learning. He is the lighthouse, when I’m lost at sea drifting in the darkness.
He is the voice of reason, and the only reason, my heart knows what love is supposed to feel like. His embrace, is meant to protect me from harm’s way.
He is imperfect, and owns his flaws as he learns to navigate his way through the adversity life oft summons.
His faith, is unshaken when he’s compelled to stand upon the crossroads with alternate paths, proffering him different experiences.
He is my temulence.
He amazes me, and his heart is a gentle hummingbird.
The taste of his love, is akin to fire in my soul.
His hands are soft and silky like taffeta as he traverses the curves in my grooves as if he were mining treasure from within the tectonic shifts, of our ever evolving bond.
He is intelligent, kind, and softly spoken.
His kiss, a lingering promise of soft whispers that calm my inner chaos. His touch, the balm to my unspoken complexity in which he revels within, with much uncertainty.
His love, became the architecture of my design, powerful beyond recognition.
He is the cure, for my imsomnia, the right to all my wrong.
His creativity, heals the wounds unseen and his playfulness, is generous. He is vigilant in protecting his love, and harnesses his emotions to dispel any doubt.
He says what he means, and means what he says because he knows how much corrosion can occur from doubt.
His love remains a secret, even when spoken for he knows where his heart lingers, upon the balustrade of truth & honor.
His gentle but firm ways make him assertive, there is no space for ambiguity.
He is comfortable in his own skin, free from the bondage of social status, and others expectations even when they assert their conflicting beliefs upon him.
His wisdom, unparalleled and acquired through experiential learning. He is the lighthouse, when I’m lost at sea drifting in the darkness.
He is the voice of reason, and the only reason, my heart knows what love is supposed to feel like. His embrace, is meant to protect me from harm’s way.
He is imperfect, and owns his flaws as he learns to navigate his way through the adversity life oft summons.
His faith, is unshaken when he’s compelled to stand upon the crossroads with alternate paths, proffering him different experiences.
He is my temulence.
Published 3rd Sep 2017
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Anonymous
3rd Sep 2017 3:41pm
The language you write, soothes my aching heart like a calming balm .x
3rd Sep 2017 6:44pm
3rd Sep 2017 6:56pm
4th Sep 2017 7:07pm
