Serenity beneath our bed, blue petals submerge us into a lake of intimacy. you shackle it in hung intent— a lancaster love, drenched with a sleeping slew of steady dew rung high inside a breath of deceitful air. a tongue glosses along your skin, as senseless as a slow moving moan and as low within your hues. matches sing in tips among these waves like paint in the inner us—and as slow as a leaf dangling in the sheets, you prick the stem and leave our messes in the center of the shade the signs above us.
Posted on: Mon, 18 Nov 2013 03:39:33 +0000
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