Monday, December 23, 2013
Glistening dreams hid inside each strand but they did not see them, so carelessly, as we looked away at things in distances, they secretly cut at the dark tresses. Simply senseless, but for them, their existence was a distraction, reminders of reckless whims and fevered interactions, of flowing tenderness cascading on top of them, in times when they did lack resistance. And though unaware of their reaction, we were not left defenseless, with half our locks riddance-- for with time, we silent think and take in, till the mind arisen, in ways both transparent and clandestine, an insight-- like that of the moon reflecting off waters, and we eagerly jumping in, to find that the light we seek turned into transient falls of fragrant effervescence, and we drenched to chin where once blue moonlight danced, but now captured bright essence in two pupils instead. So we let bygones be such for them who passed before then-- for it is this crossing of path, this secret pillaging and slashing at our back, that soon has us filled from within, born again, with no aversion towards them, for even the pillager deserves second chance, as do we forgiveness, for indulgences in innocence and ignorance. Still, as seasons collide and pass, we now find ourselves, melting like melody against harmonies sang, bathed in primrose scents, the kind once dreamed up and in tresses wrapped. And new locks grown in graceful movements-- for we are now sensuous sultry strands, diamond encrusted end to end, with blue jewels that have us soon ascend...
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