periwinkle perplexities

cuddling with the clouds

pondering if the sky always matches the lavender landscape

does this dawn define the divine?

the earth, the radiance.

if you listen to the heartbeat of the wind

she might let you wander here

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

swallowing sleep

the  debonair nightingale sings to the solemn shadow

Pulsating rapidly, her heart was ablaze but she breathes in the tundra tonight.

"Nothing's quite okay. But I'm here"

Unable to decide what song sounds sweet. She lingers in the water waiting for the burn to subside.

Cleansing the conscious, caressing the callous mind.

Fingering with fidelity, she fancies a frivolous flute to distract the sober sonnet she visualizes.

--

lies. lies lies

beautiful bouquets of those fibs half truths

luscious fabricated bullshit.

unadulterated desire is left omitted.

If the mattress made a movie, a waver of consent would need to be signed.

The sheets keep their secrets close. And laugh at the lying lioness.

No one sees her quite like her pillow. 

She has screamed into it as she is pierced by dicks jamming inside of her.

She has clasped on the cotton so tightly as she gets fucked from the front.

She lays her head there and giggles as she is being tickled by some funny fingers.

She also lays there..alone..and used that pillow as her boyfriend. As her hanker-chef..as her tissue.

As her closest confident. 

--