Shiva

The translucently oneiric quality with which she
held herself was darkly fascinating
the corridors of her
mouth held secrets sustained on
mud. Luscious lips
tied a white ribbon through the
pot. Holes of my mind which are
endless and unflinching and through which
I must navigate while she cooes with promises of
sleep. Less nights full of cinammon air and
drenched velvet clinging to
the contours of consciousness which
pull at my heart. Strings and pull
me ap a r t apa r t a pa rt
a p a r t.

She is the very creator of my willful destruction.
Hello Shiva.