See the beauty within your core.
Speak nothing but the truth.
Listen, only to the same.
And feel nothing but the warmth of love unseen.

savory buttered golden,
on sweet potato bread

drips
make a figure eight on my thigh
I wish you'd lick it off.
I want to live in your eyes.

skirt pulled up to my chest
but your phones gone dead.

Yet Truth and Honesty,
not always clear to me,

they're their own entity.

Uncraddling.
They've allow Me to submerge myself
into what has always been known.

And not at all similar to comfort,
nor a sense of peace.

indirect, passive,
...neglectful

Truth and Honesty,
Mother and Father.

I remember when truth and honesty were a serene entity
that I could wrap myself in the comfort of

I would breath lightly in pure knowing.

and know love and peace.

and dream in shades of satisfaction,
no matter the state of damage that this knowing had caused.

because for me, ignorance was torture, not bliss.