Drowning in fires,
swimming your storms
the kneel-to
bruising my bones.
Longing, wanton, needy
for hopeless devotion
that pierces my soul
with tangled kisses
on sweet lips
that bloom nectar
and honey.
Kiss me there.
-glassy-eyedgirl
The seed was there first. Before the roots knew how deep they would reach. Before the stem knew how to follow the sunlight. Before the flo...
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