Until morning calls
Your eyelids close when you're wrapped around me
What are they painting behind the canvas? That mine see;
A portrait of a tortured soul released by you affectionately?
I'd draw myself in, but the imagery doesn't fit; no tailor in me, can I dress you in poetry?
Tepid water, you're an ocean complete, filled with steeped chamomile
You set the bar a line above my step below; I am calmed by whom you reveal
A morning dove of pain relief!
Destroyer, of all my disbelief!
When you sigh, it's the sound a lilac petal makes as it falls
Come here, you; while I enjoy the scent until morning calls
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