Portrait of Tonya.Desire, like the dim lit moon, subdued, as dusk, still waning.
Portrait of Tonya. Desire, like the dim lit moon, subdued, as dusk, still waning. aching as the clock’s tic taunts from behind the glass pane, the pendulum, encased in rosewood, smooth as two backs might embrace behind closed doors, locked in-rooms, in- hales, exaltations. both tainted, cravings, creaked through door, let loose into midnight’s mystery, the obsidian hue. words by Pieter -- source link
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