There’s Yours, and then their’s.
Like a sweet solace in all the madness….
There’s Yours, and then their’s.
Reaching, mounds of love and gladness…
There’s Your’s, and then their’s…
And then Your’s again.
Your voice is like the creamiest peanut butter cup, wrapped in silk poured out from a cup
Deep, warm, rich, inviting every inch of me to be devoured, no engulfed by a strong tower
Of protection, direction without neglect, and then through the looking glass a past of bloodshed and wrong…
You turn the blinds down lest I forget that this is the place where I belong, with this level of assurance… no room for regret.
All voices but Yours…. vanish.
