Wishing on full moons walking the streets in trench coats and heels.
The birds flock sensing what’s in the air. The trees all lit up like Christmas night.
The lights reflecting on our complexions.
There’s cold air above us. The angels are dancing around the full moon for us.
My dreams are coming to fruition ripe like berries from a forbidden garden bitter to the tongue, but yet pure nourishment for the body.
I feel warmth snuggled up to the hottest fires.
His soul is my soul and I will withhold it from roses with thorns.
The birds are flocking together sensing what we feel.-HonestlyFrank