little light belittling the darkness,
I kinda need her pecking on my neck,
and avoidance of war of the roses
I imagine her sweet brown eyes
ever so gently as this lazy lay
gives not the bad but the good cries
and there's no thorns in my crown,
push me over to my front side
as you sit upon my tummy
and cheekily give me a smile
I met you in a pub down-town
and silence are the exasperation
of a locked door excitement.
I need gently demons released
upon a shore of kisses on my chest.