She worshiped the derelict spaceship of my artistic halo,
yet those lines of repetitious innocence were simply me,
pacing the pavement, releasing fever dreams in measured doses
like angry air from a balloon; in her mind she sketched my hungry fingers
with a crayon made of heartlust, and now, all that I can remember is
the sumptuous spaciousness of her feathery kiss.

08/15/2016

Posted on 08/16/2016
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