… and loving you the excitement, daring to suggest
life, math seeming simplistic; an air of innocence, making fantasy complete, to
have died those years—faced by experience; a man to his leisure, a hobby to his
brains, your justice making its acclaim …. Many mistakes, never a closer
friend, to have wilderness with steaks; a fair pain, such deficit, negating
existence, further, closer to dying in arms; blood blue excellence, never so
complete, with nature wreaking its havoc … to varnish perfection, paid partially,
fullness coming with time … by summation, by voice, to adore pieces and parts—as
they resurrect, forming wholeness. Dewdrop passions, ours so precious, to need
in its torture; scented in jasmine, jasper eyes, never jejune—a must for the unique.
Haunted by airs, inheriting favor, to have loved unbeknownst to circumstances.
Many would destroy us, just for sport, it seems so inordinate. Sweet victory of
character, a true essence, a dear excellence, to have lived, to have conquered,
to feel reborn! Minds tinkle. Hearts flutter. Faces change. With deepness
seeming irrevocable, at ease with treasures, fuel aflame!
