His curves on my bends, My space filling his gaps. Our bodies fit together, Like the perfect answer to a question, I didn’t even know existed. The lazy rise and fall of our chests, Harmonizing into a steady rhythm. “Come closer” His warm breathe tickles my ear. “I can’t -” my smile whispers along his neck, “-Our bodies are in the way.”
Lost delights of mine, leave me not in unknown ways And all of our dandled days in my fortune’s hand Winder cold wails the wrong of death delays When cold wind blows into my desert sands She has turned within
Absent deliberate intervention vis a vis suicide, supposed “natural” longevity of generic human primate ride ding bareback across avast broke back mountain minus pride defies accurate prediction, though hypothetical projections can override unknown factors, whereby excluding misfortune nationwide (and/or globally
Blood was in season, on your hands. A staged encounter mauling the clouds. Into a hare, you put the lead with a roar of gun and sun wants his share. Beneath the honours lies the guilt of a ravaged moon.