My love and my lover are opposites. My love is a plump, juicy, neurotic thing encrusted in velvet and peridot. My lover is stony, imposing, a boat fighting currents deeper than fate. When I wake in the late, crumbly hours of a scrumptious morning, covered in a concealment of love and merriment from my unwashed mind to my perfect thighs, I dream of his love. Leaning over me, his love whispers a realm of goodness into future legacy. What binds us together is stronger than ocean and faster than light. In the evening we swap blood and ghost stories.
Miniature Moon 