Trust me when I say,
ways born their
Corners and turns own-selves.

Trust me when I say,
this sky born the deserts and briers.

Those hills too, which,
When we try to climb,
They seem so high,

And rolls so inclined

When we get back.

For Evidence, I will

Bathe you with

Millions of kisses,

To show you that

Your's forehead has

Always meant to be,

For my moist lips.

And so
my lips have been.

I will hold your hand,

Until it won't melt

Within mine,
To show you the heat of

My hand has always

Meant for yours and
It shall be.

*-----------------*------------------------*---------------------------------------*------------------------*