Delicate
A scent descendant of Romans. A myth. The aroma of bliss, kissed by the solstice of sin. Equinox eating off the rose to its stem. Petal by petal he opened her lips and sipped from the meadow til she broke into bits. Karma selective. Eclectics. Starved for affection. The martyrs. Strip your armor. Your heart; I'll protect it. Perfection shredded by the flaws in your essence. So precious. Delicatessen. You're what blossoms in the gardens of heaven. I wipe the sleep from my eyes; dreams from my night, and still can't believe that I'm awake when she exists. Every second with her is heaven on earth. She's the closest to an angel that an atheist can get.
|