Monday, March 16, 2009

the warmth, the saintly warmth (“who would have known a beauty this immense?”) hothouse flower, petals of white with the softest touch, warm blooded flower, how it shares my core, how it haunts and enchants (would you like it so? would you want to fall asleep amongst them?) sailors and nymphs with heavy hearts amongst the tuberoses, drunk with desire at dawn (you cannot lock love in cages, you cannot give it away completely, it blooms and withers inside of you). the boy that is you, possessed of magical sensitivity, the way caresses cradle your head in my bosom. virgin fruit with marks left behind by your teeth, naked bodies glowing with the liquid excitement of boys, of girls (romanticize, flower, flower, marry in butterfly red) ophelia’s thoughts as she lingers on the river, the girl who knew the name to every flower, the flowers that grow wild, i want to hold secrets like them, i want to be like them 

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