fress
““...and what was life? an obscene adventure, so lucid.””
… and what is love?
the romance flounces its skirts in the breeze where the space creates the sound. the place of protection is not where love is. I’ve lifted the curtains and peered outward like the swallows with tipped wings. flirting is the final act; what comes next is never as endearing.
I trust in the silent furrows of my heart. its groans can be heard in the gaps when my breath is not in or out. the in-between phases give you the most information about a person. the threshold between this and that- we need binaries to provide context.
expansion occurs because of the paradox. I am fostering adoration and festering in disease. my discomfort is a result of this fire; the element of desire; that consumes whatever it touches. I destroy to feel fulfilled. I am greedy for this gift of grace. my eyes soften and my body follows.
I naturally take a seat of strength and I need someone with thicker lines and definition to keep me tethered to a story that I have not written. do not lie to me and it will all be alright. I cannot be in a relationship in any significant way if there are lines of deviation.
posture asserts ones presence. I am the offering of grace in breath and body. only I can take account of the space I uphold and when you enter it, everything changes. what is romance without the other? I lift my skirts to bare it all and it has to be for me before it is for you; agony is a result of the ego.
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