done and dusted

done and dusted is the ingredients of our passion it solicits rhythms of deep drenched expressions your cold, mould eyes read my deafening regrets it's your stare that ignites my flames it's your words tha signal my body to illustrious temptations vanity prevails the performance of the iris and, it's your skin effect that gets my gestures in motion and.. like dreams smothered on perfection; your face brings death defying grace hear the thud of my cry, it echoes in my eyes, in pursuit of the lurking danger of love and i'm first to acknowledge my excursion lest not call it and experience we seldom colour our lives in secrets and stain them with hatred. stay glued to dreams, for if dreams die,they are like broken winged birds that cannot fly the vulgar, tentalizing taste of lust, sighs it's remorse when reminiscent memoirs reproach i miss the craddle of your support and the warmth of your courage i miss the burrows of care the caves of kindness,the grasses of peace the rain of your divine sculpted body from which i sing praises to and sometimes,sometimes, i'm restricted to the belief that it isn't you i miss, just the unforgettable prints of emotion you left on the textural, upper surface of my skeletor