Wednesday, 18 February 2015

nifty fades of shey,

three times if she said no, once if
she said yes, the butter in the
kitchen, if I had a french bread she
  knew, holding for cover I would
 ask if the pantry had wine, not
 most times but she always my
milk if I gave her a shake, when
no became yes it wasn't for a
disarm but for the scent of
satisfaction, she may never
have finished her graduate in
Langley but her ability to read
is unparalleled, the intuition of
a cat in heat or the desire to
climb mounts untouched, you
know the check & a mate is
made that very first time you
reprobate the cave of Plato &
finally step out into the sun,
that first braze of the kiss
de la solie, you can't mistake
that burn, if the shade is right
there are only black & whites
& no grey, it's what you can't
deny, it's what is made brick
 by brick, a house & the entrance
being the door knocker, a
wolf with a ring in it's nose,

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