we each the others muse, for your love inspires me towards the craft of passion and life and the draw of my hands to sculpt a thing of beauty. Let me study you.
"you to I as moth to flame, hovering nearer that you might dry accumulated dew at the risk of singeing newly discovered wings that you've had all along" Doth your skin tingle, does your warm spring flow at the sound of my voice, does my poetry conduct the rythym of thy breaths and the heaving of thy breasts? "Aye sir, as the anticipation of bathing in such ""warm springs"" transforms thee into silk-clad iron." Were I there would you invite me in and bathe me in that warm spring after my long hard travels? "and risk you drowning in pools far to deep for you to tread through?" OH YEAH!!!12:47 p.m. - 2003-11-05