... lives on many distant shores, separated like cream from milk, by waves and waves and waves. Blur, blur, all in a whirl of madness: shuddering vibrato and the tasty zingy popclickwhiz of a shutterbug spotlight brigade.|
Soft, not sullied. Sharp, not stolen. Furtive glances? No longer furtive. Look me blank in the eye. Look at me at all.
... craves moonlight the way fireflies crave water. They love their fiery furnaces, but the burning spins them to madness. They long to be snuffed out, but at the same time, are afraid of the dark.
All they've known is a luminescent string of pearls at dusk, flitting about in the grass.
Show me shores and shoulderblades. I promise one day, I'll forget you...