Let my hair rest on your shoulders,
As my skin touches yours,Like fingers fascinated by frosted windows, Etching stories of my desire as a vellum of the gambler’s debts to the men of numbers.
Whispering of all the blue moon’s since the beginning of this Moirai reckoning dipped in each eventide.
Feel the opacity of my hunger for only you in my throaty psalms of names between the desperation of frenzied taste and scented famine.
Empty all the final heedless murmurs just before bodies leave rosettes of love’s liquification on the edges of Aurora’s balmy infancy of beyond any and all of this.
This world is and isn’t ours to hold on to anymore.
Words: M(e.)Twilight Temple Tresses: a6a7
Songs of Seamlessly Stitched Sanity: https://youtu.be/Sn3-1kvv6u4