All of my sensualism is espoused To the drowning waters that swarm any soul, That soak in those pitiful splendors. Flourishing inside, the color that is me; While the garden's evening flowers Bloom, without anyone to pick them. But descending from spring's green fire Is a dropping off of every cherry petal, Falling hopelessly into the winds of oblivion.
from Lush Stories - latest Sex Stories https://ift.tt/2X8XfQz
0 comments:
Post a Comment