Saturday, 26 December 2015

no more black ink

no more black inked
unedited etched upon this skin;
just my me nakeds and the fire
of the afterwards. i remember looking
down at the burgundy broken down
art; i smiled vixen upon your
titter beer veined neck and
just bit my crisped ready lips.
where i was happy and the existing
meant that tomorrow was
alive. 

grieving greif

bountiful snow with stagnant silver wings and baby steps leaning us forward. i have been in this attic before and the leaks were distancing ...