Like light red balloons dying in a fiery sky those tender words woven out of air are. Once they meant time and almost perfection. Now they are dreamy planets, comets so far. Consonants and vowels warmed delicate hands carving words from intransitive verbs of desire. Semantics of life written with body and ecstasy rekindled so swiftly that sweetest fizzy fire. As the eyes of time killed that sublime story without mercy, the white flowers got afraid. They froze, they cried, they saw the defeat of that naked heart in a silent masquerade.
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michelledisaster reblogged this from itlybrzlvamp and added:
I don’t even know how I started folloing this person but whoa, I think this kinda just blew me away.
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