Where death and love meet in Woman, at the tip end of her tongue, of her whip
At the blunt end of her kick, the freeze of her stare
And the need to find both the beginning and the ending
Her whisper frightens. It is the finish of you.
.
The Face Of Her
Where death and love meet in Woman, at the tip end of her tongue, of her whip
At the blunt end of her kick, the freeze of her stare
And the need to find both the beginning and the ending
Her whisper frightens. It is the finish of you.
.
