8 strawberries in a wet blue bowl

29 sec read

Alice Alinari via Unsplash

here’s the sea again.
and here’s the gaping window.

ㅤㅤㅤ go make love out of the stars,
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ the virgin sea-foam,
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ the wind, before
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤthey ghost away. Quick.
ㅤ Quick, philtrean. Transcendental.

Warm sands of carnal ㅤ in your
curled toes ㅤ ㅤadhere and slip
rhythmicallyㅤ the small of your
back ㅤ an Ecstatium ㅤ starry eyes
reflecting ㅤ and rolling back in
your head ㅤsome cold sweat drops
trickling down my throat
onto your physiqueㅤ made entirely
out of froth — ㅤ ㅤ a motion in a
ribboning loop
ㅤ ㅤ frozen ㅤ ㅤ in the Eternium.

what molten passion fruit ㅤ what a
shared cease of breaths ㅤ what
Poseidonite pearl ㅤ ㅤ blooming in
a Venus flytrap ㅤ what spasmodic
sun at the crack ㅤ of the tether

what is to make out of the gyration
between lover and lover. ㅤ poetry.

the brightness bursts & bears the rose

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