Love. Like hardened steel, annealed in the fire pit of pain. Strikes a balance between fantasy and reality. Oh smelter...statuesque us. Two lovers caught in hardness, admired and desired by all, but cherished by none. Yes none, more than us. For us are those in love. Loving each other. Offering strength between passionate kisses. Jaws slackened and agape, lecherously searching an explosive zone. As lust floats along whispering fears into each others ears hoping to step it up. Oh the caress of sweet, sweet love. Love, lust, need all so endearing. Careening us forward, impelling us into the next curve. Rounding the corner falling upon each other again and again. Mystery filling in our bare spots. Covering it with that which we are made of, love, love, and more love.
Your pic instilled in me an innate reflex to cringe in pain, but also the realization that reading your poem "More love" makes me yearn for more of it. I will suckle till it lactates.
Cheers
Alain
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Love Tinka
Cheers
Alain