I know the world has only space
for a woman and her heart, her ******* emblazoned in the trees,
her depths in voluminous books – let only the saltine water
touch her brindled body atilt amongst the lilies in the silver dawn
and that her cusped hands demand a softer hue of love whereas
the salacious wind continues its grasp championing things both fragile
and sturdy: the world slides in the coloured curve of a woman
and the men dare too, follow the road where they meet first with
death sitting still with the roses like a splendid fragrance stilled in the mind
leading you to a garden which thorns are ensconced
in a smoothness that sings salutations to love – as I remain to be
nose-deep sheath after sheath, **** after **** stalking the
perfume of the world a woman owns.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
I know the world has only space
for a woman and her heart, her ******* emblazoned in the trees,
her depths in voluminous books – let only the saltine water
touch her brindled body atilt amongst the lilies in the silver dawn
and that her cusped hands demand a softer hue of love whereas
the salacious wind continues its grasp championing things both fragile
and sturdy: the world slides in the coloured curve of a woman
and the men dare too, follow the road where they meet first with
death sitting still with the roses like a splendid fragrance stilled in the mind
leading you to a garden which thorns are ensconced
in a smoothness that sings salutations to love – as I remain to be
nose-deep sheath after sheath, **** after **** stalking the
perfume of the world a woman owns.
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