Shë, would tell me she hated heights..
But I would watch her roll out of bed every night, well morning really..
Anyways, she would go to the balcony and stick her knotted head over the 18th floor.. And somehow make love to her fear.. There was an enormous rip in the running reality, between immediate danger and the shape of her lover’s eyes, watching her every move; creating an aphrodisiac effect that ran through her strung out body..
Shë despised drugs, because their damage was mediocre compared to Hër.
Fuck.. Shë was so mesmerizing..
Reminiscing on the back shots
& that red fox, that used to sponsor to Hër nose, every lunar Sunday..
Hër pussy was like a spring evening..
Shë gushed at the sight of her lover’s tongue
You know.. They were deep..
Submerged in one another’s agonizing soul
Shë would fuck and cry and fuckin cry whenever her heart sank.
Night time was when she saw what scratched her back & took her sleep..
She was terrified..
But some how She made love to Hër, her biggest fear..
The flowing skirt made her half naked, from the waist down, 99 percent of the time.
She was sheer..
Finding partially painted canvases & selling them for 50 cents..
It was the middle of summer, & her block was right off of Poetry Lane..
Hër window is open now, & the smell of orgasmic memories is pouring from her ceil….
You can see her beautiful lover’s hands at the crease of her ass.. Squeezing her & fucking her back to present tense..
The heights didn’t bother her anymore..
Timore stopped fucking her that day..
Hër pussy was loved infinitely..
Morning was near and the wind called Hër eagerly
As the mattress said it’s nightly goodbyes to her paint covered thighs..
Timore crept behind Hër
& sang a song consisting of dreams into Hër parted, red lips..
God, they were beautiful..
I am the cracks in the walls.. The wine stain on the curtain.. Invisible admiration is the truest form..
Yaz, “This isn’t Fate at All” (via iamup2n0good)