poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

Carmine clad
We battled that day, biting taking... exposing, giving in. till repleat and exhausted in passionate surrender victory we found Then drifting dreamily away spooned in warm embrace her pretty head found sleep in the lechery of my heart The phones rang and rang the world reaching out for us but we paid it no mind lost within the fortress of our sweet intimacy A quartet of roses remains in room where love and magic were made witnesses in mature colours clad souvenirs of velvet and carmine As does the love of fire and of ashes and dragons [ 07 II 07 ]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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