You spin my flaws into gold and make my compulsions into beautiful quilts -- each pattern complicated and strange

Seamstress, why do you spin even my most troublesome features into exquisite works?

For even my lies are crafted into lace.

skipping stones along the shallow banks,
my toes numb from the cold mountain water,
flowing purposefully, free to escape
& moving with pride down the ranks.

I find my mind there, in this place,
where momentum is the only answer.
I turn my *** upstream, can't face the past,
but my prior storms of debris follow, biting back.

side arm throws & one eyed aims,
embraced by lies & I'm alone to blame,
in this place where time is free,
gold dust lace must find me.

imagine black satin and lace
imagine slowing the pace
and taking your time

imagine feeling her curves

imagine stealing her nerve

We are all bound
       by the stings of fate,
       interlaced between actions.

Each one tying us
      to another's knot.
Interlaced within times connection,

We can pull upon every
        lace, but in the end
        we all connect to another.

Showing him the  
            up and over
             maneuver.

He tries, succeeding.
            I'm a big boy,
                      smiling.

Violet fire crinkling the golden skinned surface
Lip gloss slumbered upon your open mouth
Pinked and pinned
Pinned and pink
Lace softened into the edges
Bridging skinny emotions
Plasticised eyelashes shape organic eyes
Breathless ripples evacuate

Shes more than just a pretty face. Shes a hurricane. Demin and lace spun around like wind and rain. A princess that has long since lost her crown- its probably at the bottom of the pacific by now; stitched together with good intentions, lightning, and leather. Held to the ground by a chest harness, gagged with cotton, and her heart made to beat to the rhythm of thunder. Voice like the pounding of the sea against bluffs; breaking down barricades with one subtle stroke. Uprooting trees like she does her long blonde curls and nothing can calm her chaos-not cuffs or rope, not diamonds or pearls. Shes just a little harder to handle then most. Oceans plunder through the floodgates of her eyes at any given moment; parading through the coast, tumbling around with all the broken and bruised cement.
Shes all the abandoned throwns left to drown or freeze without power, warmth or shelter. The promise to do better and be better next time coaxing her further into the fray by her collar and leash but its always the same unpredicted weather. Shes both beauty and the beast- complete opposites chained together by her ankles and wrists. Poetry pouring from her luscious lips in a heavy mist; a coldfront may stall her out but shes still quick to spit with the flick of a whip. Shes deeper than she appears but her foundations crumble under the rubble of her own ivory skin. Broken coral stumbling through the empty halls of her soul-it takes it tole. Shes the act of god, something so vivid and yet so insane could only be brought on by the abundance of sin. A divine cause lost in plush-sweet and also ******; a unity of odd mixtures: vinegar and sugar. Cloudcover hiding the blisfulness of the sun and she cant help but blush. Shes altogether too much and all she leaves behind is death and decay-she destroys everything in her path But its not her fault; she got broken too while sitting in the lap of a tormado; wrapped her up, held her tight, then let her go.Any attempt to get back inside only left her trapped in scar tissue, She went crazy when he called her baby so its no wonder nothing survived. She may leave you with a mild breeze and a sky of orange and pink.She'll send seashells spiraling into you until you become debris..make you wonder what its like to live without the kink.