Annabelle Edwards Make Love
Let us make denial Wandering minds caught In a wordless rut For what feels like a millennium Shall our worries make quiet Peace and serenity come forth Uncertainty stripped of its loose clothes Faux leather heart beats Replace the chilling spontaneity of love's soft hums Our drive is losing its fuel Gas floods from a tank gone haywire Replaced with cinnamon sprinklings Sweet to pursed lips Our scrumptious apple pie taste won't make my love start