it's hard the word i'm sorry and the clouds today are a bit cut of light draping easily with so("
i,m sorry,,
the way i've notbeen and haven't said)
the way i love you the way i love you the way i love you. i love
and the roughness of cotton, the blithe softly flow, snow and petal broken;
a stream instantly chaste between the thighs of mountains (your coming mouth and how many times have i remembered the hard droll moment of your intense clovers parting through a sea of dark leaves the slenderest gap of life to emit its thrilling nonsense a gown of roses?)?
i do not or have wondered on the cutting into the hillsides roads when driving in Summer and the sprightly children of dandelions tumble daftly serene
And want to **** my timid notion amongst the thorn'd stems of your garden (where burying is easy and death never came from the ground and only life was grass, and flowers, and kissing