Irrefutably Faire


Irrefutably faire
Dark hair, dark soul, dark words
Dance on the inside of your eyelids while the space around holds
Holds soft, fast, light – the speed of which carries the light from your eyes
To the soft of your thighs, to the height of my cries, in your lap my world dies
Don’t cry
Don’t
Cry
Or do. Weaponry of the soul


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *