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Chapter 74 - Paradelle 7
Here In The Heart Of The Heart
By Mary DeBow
Here in the heart of the heart, love is a burden.
Here in the heart of the heart, love is a burden.
It says what it has come to say, and forgets to leave.
It says what it has come to say, and forgets to leave.
The heart in love says it has a burden of is.
Come here and leave to the heart what it forgets to say.
Love is a wire around my wrist.
Love is a wire around my wrist.
I feed the wolf my hands and my mouth.
I feed the wolf my hands and my mouth.
My wire hands love the wolf I feed.
My mouth is a wrist around my and.
When my passion leaves, there is only the mountain.
When my passion leaves, there is only the mountain.
I wake each morning with its melt on my tongue.
I wake each morning with its melt on my tongue.
Each morning I passion the leaves with my tongue.
Mountain wake my only when on its there is melt.
The burden of passion is a wire each forgets.
I leave love to what it has to feed on.
My heart is a mouth, and my heart is the wolf.
When the leaves say come, my hands mountain the morning.
With only my tongue says my wrist.
Love in and around its it. Wake there. I melt here.
By Mary DeBow
Here in the heart of the heart, love is a burden.
Here in the heart of the heart, love is a burden.
It says what it has come to say, and forgets to leave.
It says what it has come to say, and forgets to leave.
The heart in love says it has a burden of is.
Come here and leave to the heart what it forgets to say.
Love is a wire around my wrist.
Love is a wire around my wrist.
I feed the wolf my hands and my mouth.
I feed the wolf my hands and my mouth.
My wire hands love the wolf I feed.
My mouth is a wrist around my and.
When my passion leaves, there is only the mountain.
When my passion leaves, there is only the mountain.
I wake each morning with its melt on my tongue.
I wake each morning with its melt on my tongue.
Each morning I passion the leaves with my tongue.
Mountain wake my only when on its there is melt.
The burden of passion is a wire each forgets.
I leave love to what it has to feed on.
My heart is a mouth, and my heart is the wolf.
When the leaves say come, my hands mountain the morning.
With only my tongue says my wrist.
Love in and around its it. Wake there. I melt here.
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