I 've got this feelings,
For a lady so dear,
Graceful in all her bearings,
Like the decorated mare of royalty,
Not to be mounted by mortals,
Nor should it thread the field of filth,
Neither the dust at dusk,
But my heart beats not to it bottom,
But it keeps slapping against my chest's slab,
And heaves my very being,
So am at a loss,
If it is love or lust?
She 's bright like the soft moon,
Yet am hardened to speak out,
By her side i feel like the peacock,
My heart glowing like it plummage.
Why do i hunger for her touch,
And thirst for the warmth of her lips,
Yet even in all these i feel so far drawn,
The cord breaking with every hard draw,
So can someone tell me what this is,
Because am kind of lost,
If this is love or lust.
Do we call this madness,
Or is it a bolt of fever,
Because i don't know how i feel,
Neither either hot or cold,.
When i see her soft walk,
Stepping dearly like a young gazelle,
And showing her beauty to a large range,
Like an African gazelle,
Grazing on a green turf,
With the heatless burning African sun,
Setting behind it.
Yet when she 's gone i feel no fluttering,
Of the tiny invincible butterflies,
That swarm within my bowels,
When i find myself within her bowel.
So can someone cut me loose,
To know if is love or lust.
What a great chaos of feelings,
A mad drumming of the insane,
Within her body i find much warmth,
Yet deep down am so hard cold,
For it freezes me down the bones,
And warm me out the touch.
So lend me advice on a large dose,
To know if this is love or lust.
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Nice writing