Form - Narrative
Title - The Hunt...
Once beating and strong, lays silent and cold
surrounded in granite, eyes liquid and gold...
A kiss is pure bliss,
But your kiss is madness...
Sing to me
sweetest rhymes of fantasy...
It’s pitch black
I can’t see a thing...
Two voices clash in my mind
One pure and true, one less kind...
You fall from a giant height.
On a dark and timeless night...
Passion Consumes me
Emit fire from my eyes...
I keep having this memory
a reoccuring dream...
Cold unknowing hands press against my lower back,
A soft sigh escaping my trembling lips...
Lying on the ground
eyes looking above...
Inspired by the book "Hawksong," by...
Invoke the air's seductive melody...