The poems of thorns

The f*******n Garden

His/her touch is as warm as hot coco in the winter time 

his/her hair is as wild as the sea during a tsunami

his/her soul is as free as the wind 

but all those are the f*******n garden for they are not to be touched 

they are not to be mine 

i shall not want for their touch 

i scold myself 

why do i want?

why do i crave for it? 

i notice him/her as he/she walk 

never to stop and think i dont need 

i know i dont need but i desire 

i desire and thats more than need 

i l**t 

lust an impproper word for me 

but to thy own self be true

so i l**t for the satisfaction he/she can guve me 

my emotiobnal need and physical oh how i l**t 

for the f*******n garden

how the word f*******n is such unpleasent but i do not listen

for nothing can stop how my heary and body feel