Each passing year I watch her undress, presenting herself as the misunderstood mistress of her time, she sleeps under vanilla skies that gradually fade into darkness,
while the silent, sing-songs of celebration at the requiem of her wake, no one dares speak in the presence of her modesty, they only, touch with their eyes and listen to the connection,
between the fine line of life and death, I display no remorse smiling honestly, basking in the nakedness of transition which is she,
rest now and find yourself in the arms of your lover, as two bodies unify within the passionate glow of red and orange hues,
basking light,
inside,
a groping sky,
reaching climactic suspense as you come into each other's arms, rendering art in the form of post fornication, only to find yourself reborn, through the warm kiss, of your lover's...lips.
5.19.2009
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