She tasted like cloves and cinnamon, the last drag on a cigarette, and the opening notes to a song I’d lost to my youth.
She was iridescent and I couldn’t put her out, not even in my dreams.
She tasted like cloves and cinnamon, the last drag on a cigarette, and the opening notes to a song I’d lost to my youth.
She was iridescent and I couldn’t put her out, not even in my dreams.
You say so much in such a small package of words. Hats off to you.
With the flutter of angel’s wings,
and the whisper of the willow tree,
she alit upon the rafters of your soul,
vaulted and bare.
“She was iridescent and I couldn’t put her out…”
Yeah, what Liras said!