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There is so much I’d say about you… how much you resemble October though your curves are less sensual. August, not as so, really, but perhaps flickerings of July…with that smile that is knowing and confident, like the descendent of a magical line. Your sky smells smoky and at times sea-fresh. I like this about you. I like that you can be two things at once, looking forward and backward, of two faces–cunning without treachery, leaning over the edge of summer and fall, past and future, the orange-black space for everything to exist. Brown eyes, or perhaps hazel. Lips that smile but never reveal teeth. Make love with passion—dripping sweat and sweet kisses. Daughter of Janus. Mother of decay. Idol to indifference. It is not enough that you tend melancholy, but burrow through it spinning a needle, confident there is another side and that, eventually, light will shine through.