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The Mystery Of Love

As we get lost in love,
Our fingers soothe themselves and tell the hidden tales,


And each of our sandals compliment our footsteps.
Leaving an imprint of stories untold,
Our eyes which searches through our mind gets ready to burn.

As we get lost in love,
Our fingers soothe themselves and tells the hidden story,
And each of our sandals compliment our footsteps
Leaving an imprint of stories untold,
Our eyes which searches through our mind gets ready to burn.

As our eyes burn in love,
All flaws becomes perfect imperfections,
Our minds compliment and get drunk with the righteous evil.

Our lips get married and rambles sweet nothings
As the lips get married in love,
We long to test from the cauldron of holy iniquity
Counting all loss as gain,
And smiling foolishly to the inebriating nothingness.

Francisca Mmesoma

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