loutreWhisper

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Snowmani suppose it's fitting / that when his eyes / are smoky like frozen breath
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1.7k
Temperancethe cat / waits for her enemy / to make the first move
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The Magicianone second / you're holding onto me / like i'll disappear
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It is nighttime and you are lovely.in this city of smog and black sky / the cellphone on your hip is / firefly light
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The Empressshe betrays her anger / in her smile / as she speaks slowly
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The Devilthis is my fantasy- / we're holding hands / on a twilight balcony
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Red String TheoryI'd fashion you a pillow from clouds / a sink with the tears in the space-time continuum / you'd sweep me into your arms onto your horse head nebula
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Beaver Lamentthe day / when my teeth / were finally straight
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The NileYou are my Egypt. Warm dry sandy skin slipping through my fingers, blue rivers dipping and winding under your skin. A heart of paradise and honey, filled with the spirits of kings and gods. Every inch of you is a monument, a shrine to some old glorious memory, untouchable by the ravages of time or even made more beautiful and valuable. A constellation of red stars rise over your back and face, spiralling into green-brown oases, cool and soothing. / You’re blinding. You are the slim strength of an obelisk. You whisper stories like sandstorms that could wear down a mountain. / You have a face, a curse. You should be put in a museum. Just one touch.
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Elastic Regionrelatively speaking / I guess my tolerance level is pretty high / I bent over backwards for him
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