lily vine. smile at me.
and this is how we spoke. pageant school. in the theater again. the ocean garb and fragile frills. a white over-awning on your nipple tops. stand behind the line. and put to sleep. inject. infuse. away from the topography of poison venules. in the space behind the pinch. inject the rose. and put to sleep. wait. your clicking tips. your ticking clicks. a minute and seven quarters around. you tap and pinch. what was your name, hazy plume? the silence of sleep. and mechanic buzz. this the time for the artifice.
you lift the lid. the life of life. and snip the tip. to perfuse. to make a beat. one too many. and once they broke, the rhyme of chimes. i made it stop. the beating dove. the tomb of love. there was the end. the ocean garb, patterned with blood. for humanity, we said. the frozen dead. will save a song. will save a life. lily vine. which plumes are mine? which feathers i dipped in honeydew milk? coated in rust, and carved in breeze. the heart rhyme trilogy of the dead and peace. for this is the love i broke.
you said in paint. let us love your gait. let us thread the shoes. command to life the element of whip. in love we sang. and bent our eyes. it was gone. you are not. the one i thought. the one i would. the one i did. you lily vine. come realize this time, that mine is the allegory of break. that mine is a cage. of empty escape. an unheld place. an upheld fix. with the drift each day, let us love again. like the weekend of songs, a month ago. erotic in lights. the scent of flesh and the feel of skin. long and lost. we have loved for seconds above. in sleep and day, in the monstrosity. i upheld your hand. lily vine. i write this trilogy. the heart rhyme trilogy. on the sand castle matinee.
and this is how we spoke. pageant school. in the theater again. the ocean garb and fragile frills. a white over-awning on your nipple tops. stand behind the line. and put to sleep. inject. infuse. away from the topography of poison venules. in the space behind the pinch. inject the rose. and put to sleep. wait. your clicking tips. your ticking clicks. a minute and seven quarters around. you tap and pinch. what was your name, hazy plume? the silence of sleep. and mechanic buzz. this the time for the artifice.
you lift the lid. the life of life. and snip the tip. to perfuse. to make a beat. one too many. and once they broke, the rhyme of chimes. i made it stop. the beating dove. the tomb of love. there was the end. the ocean garb, patterned with blood. for humanity, we said. the frozen dead. will save a song. will save a life. lily vine. which plumes are mine? which feathers i dipped in honeydew milk? coated in rust, and carved in breeze. the heart rhyme trilogy of the dead and peace. for this is the love i broke.
you said in paint. let us love your gait. let us thread the shoes. command to life the element of whip. in love we sang. and bent our eyes. it was gone. you are not. the one i thought. the one i would. the one i did. you lily vine. come realize this time, that mine is the allegory of break. that mine is a cage. of empty escape. an unheld place. an upheld fix. with the drift each day, let us love again. like the weekend of songs, a month ago. erotic in lights. the scent of flesh and the feel of skin. long and lost. we have loved for seconds above. in sleep and day, in the monstrosity. i upheld your hand. lily vine. i write this trilogy. the heart rhyme trilogy. on the sand castle matinee.
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