Getting trained, Getting drained of my perceptions and my past. On the forehead, the blessed kiss of your whisper, it is the ocean when you cradle me in the bed.
Plums in my cheeks and feathers in my mouth Sweet the first it melts underneath Overwhelming the second it makes me nonsensical. The squared edge of your neck where my breath craves to pose Your bulk straight legs that my breath craves to follow I can look at them as forever is a moment. Stay here … Continue reading Number 6
Salty lips in a salty soul As you talk they blame you Give them a blast a jump on your wave A draught across the ears a lovely bone in the hair And finally a pillow to rest their hands while they're pointing at you.