"Your hair is a glimpse of home
Yet when it's wet...
It's heavy..."
He wrapped himself up in deep umber waves
Dug himself into deep, dark loam
Yet still floating away in a sea of strands
Sheets of passion and poison
"It was a secret nesting in summer scorched brush."
Fragrant and Supple.
His ***** cut the Earth. He watered thick peat.
Together they would slink down dark alleys, cowered in grease covered corners.
He hit her...
She snapped at him...
He chased her salivating strands, rich auburn coat glistening.
In the late afternoon heat she submitted her secret.
He howled his hurt...
An animal infected with rage and confusion.
*
He said, "I have a 5 o'clock flight to help fight the cause." She said nothing. He swept back her tide of soft auburn...wet her with salty fear.
She stepped away slightly...
He shuddered...
He disappeared...
(Sometimes at school people will leave their unfinished projects by the printer. This is a collection of sorts I've found. Because we don't know what the original author intended this to be or mean, it's unique in that each person will make their own meaning.)