04-20-2014, 05:28 AM
Through a diaphanous gorge
I slip upward into the fuzzy air,
floating in the direction of enticing whispers,
past a slipping silhouette of the
darkest persimmon red.
I graze the stubbled cheek of a young man whom I secretly adored
thus plunging ecstasy by the smell of him
and I am slipping in this state of utter rest and tension
dreaming the harp,
I am the fifth string
I slip upward into the fuzzy air,
floating in the direction of enticing whispers,
past a slipping silhouette of the
darkest persimmon red.
I graze the stubbled cheek of a young man whom I secretly adored
thus plunging ecstasy by the smell of him
and I am slipping in this state of utter rest and tension
dreaming the harp,
I am the fifth string