I’m fingering fire with palms of clay swaying to the mold of his gold form… Breathless and beautiful Speechless and bold Curled and captivated I reach the threshold Of his eyes… Where sighs slip Sculpted and gripped Tripping over each other With lips of lovers. and all I can do is smile he fits so well hard to tell what shape this sculpture will take for he is solidly chiseled in me. [a work of art we will be]
Reason for writing:
There is no pot of gold at the end and they never stay golden. Fucken bull
Birth sign: Aries
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