Wayward Mistress

I hope you grant me one last kiss.
As I have never had much of this.
Your spring of love nestles my bliss.
It brings me joy, of thus I’ll miss.

You’ve given me the tree of life,
And still, I may never be your wife.
Cuts deep in my veins with hatred’s knife:
I may never have you, and that’s my strife.

She walks with such grace and effervescence.
Her cool water smile brings out her essence.
Her aroma is that of wood burning incense.
When she paces the valleys, the trees lean in suspense.

But I am not her; she is your lover.
I am mere landscaping; the dirt I cover.
I ought to be with you; I yearn for no other.
My passion is lava; it burns, cools, and then smothers.

There’s no greater desire than the one that exists.

My bundles of sorrow are now present and rife.

There is one thing I may accept as a lesson:

A wayward mistress may live no further.

Wayward Mistress

Brandyss Adams

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
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  • Artwork Comments 2

Artist's Description

A true passion of a woman’s battle of keeping love under wraps. She knows she can not bear to lose her love but exposing herself is uncanny. She must learn to let go or her passion will overtake her.

Artwork Comments

  • darkofnight
  • Brandyss Adams
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