Astrapia, the beautiful arcs of plum and golden wrap in you a security. It is disconcerting to see you know so little-- to not see such daunting arcs for rhetoric. Hold steady.
II “about the facts of life and that I didn’t know that I would conceive or so on.”
Misconceptions most fed, generational ignorance liberating throb and leisure and pleasure and…
Seemingly perfectly perched. Feathery flow and bend swoons over the exotic excitement naturally-- unknowingly. The color flushes, flashing bright, a melting beauty. To know of this must be to know serenity…
III “I stayed with him and he said he loved me.”
Every prismatic fiber is yours.
IV “He said this was the only true way to show that you loved somebody.”
Paradise, what alluring shades you show. The better to attract you, my love. Oh, what mysterious gaze you hold. The better to captivate you, my love. Oh, what sturdy frame you stand. The better to surround you, my love. Oh, what fierce talons you stretch. The better to clutch you, my dearest love.
V “And I met him again then, and he said, Well you did it before; why can’t you do it now?”
He reaches for her once more, as if for lifetimes this had been the norm. She settles in the familiarity and loveliness that is, or so would seem. Neither flushed nor melting, with one door another opens.