I don’t have much to offer but my love.
A love that doesn’t leave at dawn,
a love that doesn’t give up on the first obstacle,
a love that will whisper “you are mine”
as the sun rises and illuminates every inch
of your body on the right side of my bed.
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Beautiful .
Why would any one want more then a poets love which is at the heart of a poet!
Beautiful
Who is rich in love,are whealthy
Beautiful
In Whisperwood, love wears a cloak of thorns, a crown of twisted moonlight. It’s a vine that strangles, a whispered promise spun from shadows. Beneath the canopy of secrets, hearts don’t beat, they flicker like trapped fireflies, consumed by the chilling symphony of the dark.
Here, love’s kiss isn’t a balm, but a blade that carves your name onto a weepingwillow’s bark. It’s a shared breath on a moonless night, the taste of cold iron and forgotten blood. Two souls entwined in a macabre waltz, their steps echoing with the cries of unseen creatures.
Forget roses and sonnets, moonlit walks and whispered vows. In Whisperwood, love is a pact whispered to the Beast, a bargain struck with whispers, sealed with a tear of frozen moonlight. It’s the echo of lost souls, the rustle of unseen wings, a haunting melody played on bone flutes by spectral fingers.
It’s a moonlit tryst at the crossroads of nightmares, a dance with shadows cast by a skeletal willow. A touch that chills to the bone, a gaze that pierces the soul, a love that devours you whole.
So tell your tales of sunshine and rainbows, Luna, of hearts overflowing with warmth and light. We, of Whisperwood, know a different truth. Here, love is a chilling masterpiece, a haunting beauty painted in shades of midnight and despair. It’s a symphony of shadows, a whispered nightmare whispered to two souls forever bound by the darkness.
Beware, Luna, if your pen dares to explore our love. For you might find yourself drawn into the labyrinthine embrace of Whisperwood, another thread woven into the tapestry of our macabre devotion. But if you do, come, dance with the shadows, let the Weaver of Whispers spin your tale. For even in the darkness, love, however twisted, burns with a chilling, eternal flame.
Wonderful
Wonderful little poem! Very romantic. 🩶