"tongue obscura, forbidden thought made real. this
isn't real; love but in fragments. "
poems for the monstrously beautiful; for girls with too much hair and too many teeth; for bodies made of acid; for the stepdaughters and forgotten sons; for the...
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You come to me in whispers of dawn, amber honey by spring morning dew. The river of gold yields with grace. A curtain-fall, god-ray ascension, split into streams of auburn secrets, your silken strands. (A mere touch is transcendent, like well-wish kisses.) As one fosters a lamb or wanders Van Gogh's fields, I rise each day to glimpse at what beholds my heart's eye. Pledge & scent my lips with rosé. We live so that we might feel the glory of your crown, the virgin dawn.
