A Love So Soft.
A love so soft.
How you know what is better?
A lover gone right to her heart strings.
Paris lights and French boys livin' with.
Kiss me, concur a moon of the night.
Kill to kiss me, under the swept tiaras.
A queen knew none but rule.
A lover heights and purple ventricles singing to her red-blue artery.
Face, love.
I am a new world of women where she is.
Her.
Sunidhi
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everytimeyousaygoodbye liked this · 8 months ago
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Living for the heights and sit downs.
A world for the week and might for the loop.
Her lies tell me war-cry girls know no home.
A lover of deep holes and a mist of courageous tells, were we?
A lover is night. Night is her.
Tell me she is high high and tell me she sparks a frozen moon to dying. Her.
Sunidhi
A liar is he.
A God is he.
A might is he.
Leaves like earth barren soil hitting the ocean.
Loves like lotus blooming in her mud ink flowers.
Her lies are the more, lies to telling her hawk goodbye.
Hers is a sparse reflection of him.
Hers is a God loving her human story.
Her.
Sunidhi
City burns as he speaks.
A lie warps my mouth.
A loom in the speaking lenses of God.
A day that I promised him my hair length of trust in God.
He is the only exception.
His hum sounds like my humdrum laced like her.
A keeper or sadness leaper.
Sour teeth and mask ice cream.
A lover only exception.
He is a lover telling her sin not.
A tight to the leap.
A lie in the morning.
My whisper kinda bruised him.
You are the only exception.
You are. Her lisp kind of ached that day.
Works of Her. Liars of marred reality.
Her.
Sunidhi
A lie to mishap lie with.
A morn on the night seeps of red mud sickles.
Her marriage seeps a seed.
A sight of the wise.
A light of the world.
A might of the night and she was the courage of night.
A night sleep colloquium on her speed days.
Her collosal eye was the night of day.
Hers was a burn in the heart fire of his.
He.
She.
Sunidhi
A liar not crime.
A crime not war.
A war not love.
A love not her.
Not her but lie.
Not lie but dye.
Her style not her psyche.
A lover not her paradise.
A mother not ink.
How is one thing greater than other?
We are zigzag moving on warps of her arena dresses lighting up fuel and war.
Her. Is an understated dress. Hers is a lone sick father telling hums of truths to tell nips of her wisdom, black to back to soil.
Her.