celestial whisky blues (Remove filter)
the destruction of small ideas
we three sit in syzygy
picking faults
parsing each sentence
you, the celestial centre
serene when seen from space
but roiling and folding on the surface
violent and beautiful
under heavy layers of make up
mascara landslides and fuck me red lips
me, the interloper
a mere satellite to your turbulent beauty
hoping your gravitational pull
will hook me in
and...
Friday 12th August 2016 11:02 pm
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