If I
might a gracile woman, a too tight woman, a too enlightened woman. If I might a
deceased woman, about to breathe woman, something I’m addicted to. I remember saying
this, a woman cringed, while needing admiration; to die as living, or to shiver
as dying, while tears fell the eyes of a clown. Our abused women those
courtyard cries or berries and blues and behavior. So glued to bodies, a pudgy
man, while blessed by a few creatures; so refreshing so kale or a bag of lettuce—those
tomatoes, those croutons, those silent agonies. (this welding we do, if but to
sustain a woman, where communication is continuous):
bright teal eyes,
or hypnotic beige, while dear sable kisses; such tarmac senses or so
remarkable, as a soul met countenance and then brains; by remorse to lust that
way, by convenience to die that way, where you honor control. I met a falcon
this rising wind so curt, polite, and cruel; where souls believe this way,
while bidding eternity that way, while Love is beautiful skin. Our not so
secrets, our higher energies, while so concerned with their deliverance—to live
in thoughts those intimate islands, while you keep visiting.
If I
might a gorgeous fane a redeeming pain so carried into blizzards. (such simplistic
jasmine, or radiant jamesia eyes, as souls parting our horizon—to avenue a
creature, or to die with anguish, so cursed to live those sensations); the sap
to its bark the thesis to its loneliness or the physician to her cadence; as
adorned miseries, or bright happy eagles, at sudden such joys.
If I might this rare essence while we admire what is done to us; so
many years at making moments it feels nice to lose essence; those
deliberate pieces those
internal whys where it’s terrifying to be absent;
as screaming for closure attached to its life a sore reminder of its vulnerability:
while skies keep
vigil or miracles remain vocal a person so drawn to falls.
If I
might dote a little as never
a warmer creation as never
a more demanding voice; to look at feelings, or to emote until it feels
goodness, where so affectionate it balloons.
Such purpose
during strife so electric during rain as
adoring souls so close it feels
hope while too painted, otherwise.
