The jungle canopy
may as well leak mist and sweat
Every move is slow motion sticky.
This forest is a never silent sponge
filled with unforgiving cuts and gorges;
populated with bugs that kiss their way to your veins.
Sudden weepy rains;
clingy clothes,
sensuality spawned
from constantly feeling
the need to bathe.
Bathe in these blues, doll.
Huddle in this campfire canvas.
Steam the sheets,
gorge the kissing bugs.
It could be 1930,
we could be explorers.
Navigating the green in a heat induced state of awareness;
we deserve to be anything.
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1 comment:
Think nothing of it doll. You are a busy lady and I'm envious. We'll drink coffee together in and out of silence one day, rest assured.
The last line is key; you got the stuff, Ames.
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