Fatal flirting. Fleeting. Beseeching. Paradise absconded.
Beyond it, the way the light hits you makes everything else go dark. Stark. Blurred.
Perturbed, let’s succumb to the sanctity in our sanctuary.
Tainted fairies. Baptized on blank canvas tears, fears. Mesmerized. All in your eyes. Canvas me.
Canvass me. I couldn’t break the glance, my mind just kind of danced interpretively with no nautical
Optical illusions. No words. No intrusions. Asylumed adulations.
Masturbation. Black widow ourselves. Let’s just step into each other’s souls,
and know that we could never express this moment except by giving birth to it.
Unearthing it. Orphaned. Although it could later manifest into Forever mores and
Stop the wars, but right now … it is you … and eye. And we. Only have. This moment.
words / nicole camack