Member-only story
A love forbidden
drives you to write prose, for it is there that all desires flow.
Its lyricism encompasses metaphors and whims,
there within the flowers grow.
It is the bud of the magnolia,
ah, the most organic symbol of pleasure,
Passion grows, and the emotions ebb and flow.
It becomes in the moonlight,
my love radiated within unto him,
It is my pleasure palace,
within which I wear his crown.
Oh, sweet sorrows, my love imparts,
For I long to perform the act,
it is a love forbidden,
hence the intensity of the fire that burns within.
One is consumed,
thoughts burning like a raging fire,
I am snared within his lair
for it is for his love I perspire,
For his love, I long to be the martyr to the word.
Silence will not do,
I am compelled to write and vocalise my feelings,
my thoughts made real, his heart to steal.
I am thus the madman reeling,
ready to throw caution to the wind.
