Ive seen her face,..an image parallel to the simmering tropic that melted itself beneath the radiant sun of twilight. A mirage below the sinking skies. Ivory waves of ocean echoed melodically before the swaying heat of desert. Prior to inevitable funeral flower arrangements. What did scrape the boiling sandy surface? The furry drought that brought upon lost fables of time. Summer rested its laurels among the withered branches of Autumn. Mocking her smile,.with its persuasive wind chimes,. that hung from the wooden balcony.
I was the adolescent water boy in my elderly years. Forbidden was desirable pleasure. Curious with anxiety and contempt,.. I cursed below my breath. My mouth revolted with the clamor of naive footsteps,..that dwindled themselves beyond the juvenile schoolyard. Seasons would mold a forlorn cast around my days, as lessons unfolded before my sealed eyelids.
She was what I looked forward to along my daily routine.
In the courtyard right before dusk,..as the desolate neighbors prepared for supper,..a rather dismal hour. The enveloped brick columned tenements. I would stand alone,..gazing upward to her fourth story housing unit window. The food stamp king I was. With the baby formula,..and the gracious diapered words of childhood,..and earned wisdom would pour fluently,...permeating like some repulsive liquid. The sperm of night,... the dying seed within her naked teeth.
I recall once at a sullen hour,...the passion of midnight creeping,..aching between the amphetamine of her vulnerable flesh, pulsating thighs, and breathing deeply she was,.. dripping with sweat,.. human she was and still is. I shall call on her some random evening,.. from the far continental shores of the Pacific. With my chest overflowing with love of centuries for this woman. Pure madness. I hear to this day she is very much alive. Residing in some northern canyon along the Himalayas. Paradise subsided years ago along with a dream,.. of a lonesome grief -stricken man dancing briefly along the rocky cliffs. Prior to the ice and the avalanche of decades.
She would moan from the pangs of Childbirth.
Her legs split,...with the cunning knife of deception....
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