❛ you know , ❜ the gingered flesh of whelps deracinating , let not the ruddy - tinted cheeks of him shy ‘way from that dwelling thought . ( the recurring vista of : what if i was to dip her morning beads in cherries / sweet almond first ? would i have fallen from grace ? would she live on in spite of me / would she have met this saviour ? ) a lilt of grandiose / morning glory climbs under the pondweed , dragon flies and , a drowsy midnight heat that squirms . it makes his words seem sticky -- and he clings to the other’s arm still despite the heat , as if to seek in a jejune tone : don’t leave . ❛ sometimes i think it would be best if it were just you and i in the whole wide world . then you wouldn’t have to go chasing down ugly little kekkais . those things are disgusting ! ❜ @noshish
