The Tangled Mirrors Of Sexual Friendship Poem by Sharron Stephenson

The mist the strength and pain in my heart,
Is the feast of love. The beats of my own mind,
Comes from the wind and rain, which has caused,
A angry rise through the tears of hurt. My cup of,
Emotions which was starting to drown me is,
Draining away because of the talking and working,
With the people around me.

The hand that holds the core of the past of hate,
And sorrow. The tangled weave that plays the glass,
of mirrors.

The first step on the path of destruction, the fall,
Of the night, can open the door to names and,
Faces and the clearing of the street of sand and,
Soap. A smile a hug can place a warm and,
Cuddly glow on my cheeks of red

A kind word and a arm of friendship could,
Make the sun shine among the leaves of green.
The birth of music can lead me to the window of the,
One who knows me and who stands by the best and,
worst of me.

The kisses and touches from a lover allows me,
To reach the new heights of sexual pleasure.