One with One

by Austin   Feb 15, 2005


An unexpected kiss
Delicately touching my lips
Filled with passion
And lined with emotion
Softly caressing my lips
And filling my heart with love
Tasting as sweet as the dew
Of a fresh spring roses
And still smelling as sweet
Even though it's name is
You
Called by another name
Still rouge in color
A color of love and passion
A color that stains my heart
And keeps me loved
A color that in the end
Keeps me from breaking apart
Attaching me to you
Here in this sweet misery
Though now now longer misery
Because you are here with me
The time doesn't matter
The place doesn't matter
Only me and you
A feeling of love that must be true
Your lips keep me truthful
Because from such sweet bliss
Could a lie never be told
They allow you to keep me in your
Hand and allow you to hold
That of which is my essence
And now is yours as well
Making me love you more
Now my secrets I can tell
Allow me to be wrapped up in you
To have you whisper in my ear
Those seductive sweet nothings
That dance around my ears
And looking into your eyes
I can see my whole life
Ending up with you
On that old deserted beach
Feet in the sand
Your holding my hand
And our hearts locked one with one

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Latest Comments

  • 19 years ago

    by Brookeღ

    I have to agree with No Motiv it's all urs exellent job very well written from the heart.

  • 19 years ago

    by xxangelchicxx2000

    very good

  • 19 years ago

    by bluehun

    On that old deserted beach
    Feet in the sand
    Your holding my hand
    And our hearts locked one with one

    loved that bit sound like a good way to be nd sounds very mmmmm dreamyyyyy if only life was that simple 5

  • 19 years ago

    by oOXkonnXOo

    WOW that is an amazing poem! I love the imagery and the way its flows, it was beautiful!

    -jenn

  • 19 years ago

    by No Motiv?

    it's very expressive....I like it because i cannot relate to all of it....which kind of gives me a new outlook to most of these words; yet at the same time, the confusion in the writing and lack of constant flow makes it your own; makes it individual. This poem is truly yours, and only yours. I like it.