pretty little, 57 to 63
I’d love to be asleep with tired annoyance; circumlocution at one another in the same, matters the same. Finally, many a turquoise lake there seems. I nearly fell; he left the bed and I heard words where fewer would do. There are evergreens. He’ll never sleep with me; so I'm asleep after the shower.
In a deliberate attempt all around, we stood in the smoke, dressed for vagueness. The sky is a blue kitchen up north, and a blue evasive sun is roasting in the negative weather. Verbosity is tucked brightly off the deck. Beautifully I reeked in small shades; and over, played to never stop seeping from my orifices. Triangular squinting in the brightness.
When will I become a beautiful girl, and flesh & bone at the base, steadily adult? He tends, apologizes, saying through a thin cigarette in backyards that he might just love to meet someone spinal. To talk quietly in the back, to listen more and seeing more. I was happy to hear them.
Water like this sways exactly beautiful, as I had small water like a photo. Women all the time desire a chest for holding gestures, for kisses. They've been a lot more compendious, like this water. For years for him I felt awkwardly, formal, cold, green… and even tonight I need to be in my still, containing too. At least six hours since, presenting the essential facts, something invisible from her… an adventure was with me, I had fallen asleep. Something pretty out here, unlikely, and we watched in good spirits a comprehensive lake. Be prepared to have wanted the hour’s walk; concise did I come with you down.
Hard to make out, I felt slightly. Abridged, laconic. Even prepared to feel, or have sex, I’m unsure. Guilty, succinct. Paying attention. A vague face that I shouldn’t have, to unite in something already existent from his breath. This strange man’s disastrous concatenation, I wanted to prove disappointment. But how silently he sleeps! I had nothing of actions, opening a beer and talking. The disappointment, and how nice to have him to feel, conflagration … nods head sadly.
A view of my back in the morning, I suppose. Extensive, silent for an erection pressed badly to me; that destroys fifteen seconds. Outside, against my back. In my head a great talk about some rocky erotic man of land happened. Mountains in just the slightest.
A bottle of congenital need, too much time kissed and I slept in like a disease to know. Just bits align right, his bed and he, present from birth can we please.
