for the beauty of the day we wept huddled mass one, singular in thought we
eyes awaken, asleep. I dream the taste of purple I dream the touch of you. I dream of tall grass fields on my… shuddering in magnificent breath.
starlight sings silver catalyst for dreams the woosh of the window unit roars with smokey tang on my lips, I shi… shoulder to door pane, perceptions…
He speaks with a purpose that dema… with soft, soliloquy of word to sh… the emulsification, the blood of b… and women carrying the weight of m… Storyteller. Anthropologist.
the taste of purple inundation eatery fingers flowing in scratching clutch we hold
base of an eggshell in a portrait of painting she is pure canvas had I been a painter she would direct turpentine
yes... a million times over, I sai… to him, to them to everyone, to no one I gave pieces of me Perhaps
there is a chamber there is a heart we dream it we taste it ours, unconditionally
The metaphorical heart Burnt in frozen grasp As the stale air, travels, labored far from memories, moments of horror caught
his exit, his entrance stars in solemn shades countdown in pink orbs we, burning out suns commencing solitude
fallible fallen features flawless foes feel, feel, feel formulated
and in that tear, everything broke every shard of pain, every loss the losses yet to come her voice, her heart caught
The touch that spans length and difference I feel the distance that he holds captive in heart and… one reach, one touch
my heart has rooms that sigh filled with dust of disuse, of mis… Waking world
all the poetry inside, the curtain… dropping dusty upon the frailty of my words the world, too old my thoughts, too young, too same
