Tale of my anguish
Dearest does not leave from bed
The covers eat him
All men are mortal
Except in sleep, love, and death
The pillows whisper
Down on one knee, I
Offer him my fingertips
Deeply in his hair
YOU ARE READING
A Rococo Lover
PoetryThis is a romance of asymmetry, light colors worn under clean sheets strewn with fresh cut flowers. This is a story of the ways of nature, in fear and in fury.
