SHE IS A vermillion stained mess, a tangled doe-eyed girl who runs with the mulberry winds amongst the cerulean skies. she is the one with the broken crown resting on her brow, and the ruby bangles that drip in gold underneath the sun's maddened touch; she stands upon the lip of the precipice and swings herself over the edge, a tumble of limbs as her wings unfurl and she takes flight. she speaks with the glacéed nectar of the gods flowing out of her mouth, and swings her hips to the thrusting beat of the lyre. she is passion and she blossoms underneath the swathing lust of the moment. she follows the rapid staccato of my heart to the brink of our insanity and insists that we will not stop until we cannot buck our bodies without crying out for venus and her violent mercy. she is the ghost that tugs at my heart and possesses each lover of mine until she tires of such a life and fades back into neptune's carcass. i search for her with every fiber of my being but i fear that no mortal can fully embody her spirit and not lose their will to live.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
