it’s not foreplay or tease
it’s not carnal or garish
an invitation of honesty and generosity
the innocence tempers on celestial
your wings unfurl and welcome me to your home
an angel and his wreckage
follow the golden fields
lead me to the spring to subdue my thirst
as the tears tumble through the barriers
the sunshine breaks in and assembles the map
draw the line straight to my calm
the ease to quell my pain and make it all better
your fingers dance painting the air
carving the heaven for me
because that’s all i ask you to be
my saviour, my hero
reconstruct my failing cravings
and build me up from the ethereal soil

© simon whittle — from lovers’ tiff: a ballad