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She clung to his waist as if the last fisherman pitched around a lake. She was not gonna let go until evening fell, until they’d made their hotel; eyes on the autobahn ahead. They'd once trickled into terraced tributaries hankering after hidden held waists on corners, continuously, as they learnt of not letting go, kept the sense of cologne pecked necks, fuliginous chimney pots and the fume of hollowed out leaves on rain soaked trees stacked next to each other on the latent apothecary's patent leather shelf, safe in the old factory of a shell. Their single cylinder sang along the road, and she did not hear him singing.
0
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
naps owe me eyes open
She clung to his waist as if the last fisherman pitched around a lake. She was not gonna let go until evening fell, until they’d made their hotel; eyes on the autobahn ahead. They'd once trickled into terraced tributaries hankering after hidden held waists on corners, continuously, as they learnt of not letting go, kept the sense of cologne pecked necks, fuliginous chimney pots and the fume of hollowed out leaves on rain soaked trees stacked next to each other on the latent apothecary's patent leather shelf, safe in the old factory of a shell. Their single cylinder sang along the road, and she did not hear him singing.
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tim-knight
Written by
English
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
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