and i aim to be the only one he looks at with those (peppered) eyes that drink in every youth's beauty (with the thirst of an atlantic eagle), and i want to ensnare him in my grip (like claws around his slender form), being lifted by apparatuses so unlike his bubbly demeanor; i want to keep him away from the girls (with dripping freckles and waterfall manes) who vie for his attention; i want his face, his body, his soul all to myself so that he rains his amour over my imperfect figurine, & this is a happy ending for (he lives away from the world, he lives inside my head) he is a figment of my own imagination.
YOU ARE READING
an abstract limn
Poetry❝ but this time i will not be lifted from the realms of this catastrophe, this time i will be dipped into the honeyed lox of this saccharine thought; drowning in the depths of the wilted tulips that have not ever to sprout. look at these alstroemeri...
