I was penciled in, eraser nearby, occupying the dearth. It moved her. To explain this life, sinking deeper into the fantasy. To imagine what’s required, to give until drained. We might use strong personas, part weakened, advanced creatures.
When one is priority, it’s hard to ignore; the secret is in motive, to give what others can’t supply, a shooting star, one wish.
Pulled out of a novella, talking love, acting as if—filled with decision.
Stressing appetites; deteriorating.
So much in a moment, as stated, as feeling fruitful—one needing to believe her inner dialogue, either a blessing or a curse.
Chipping at ice, melting glaciers, to see her eyes, to see her composure, to wonder what caused it, a dark shadow. To see him live, void of one’s soul, somewhat addicted, with nothing meaning much, the taste of her aura.
One inked me in, ever at a distance, a certain type of semblance; sheer irksome, upon a greeting, currents into prose. As immortalized. Carrying her magic.
I look to it, as a mystery, listening to a deeper gripe, a needed closure, remembering a long and flowing dress, all white, all deliberate.
It’s just a haunting. Some fall into gossamer, claim confusion, wrestling with eroticism. I think one is accustomed to certain fruits, measuring imposition, believing in kismet. The very nature, if one could keep clarity, to pinpoint the paradise, so afflicted, needing life to give one blessing—part allergic to the cadence.
I’ll be honest. I must efface my thoughts, it’s a wild ass toast to give. In truth, made apparent, a different breed, the worlds are eclectic, the woes are in essence, to see reflection, to sense certain souls, as present, the ups, the downs, part clear with life.
