Loose Strands Seek The Trees

Saltwater scampered viciously down the length of her throat,

And the world, for a moment, was possessed of ultraviolet brilliance, 

The heat that hummed around the point of her abdomen,

Sang clear and loud in her ears, from the entrance to her new mouth. 

Two stations down, 

In the wilder parts, 

Past the smallest town. 

Together we were born timid, like fateful little hummingbirds, 

That could twist and toss our coloured breasts for the sake of a crowd, 

When we happened on the outside, visions of cherubic youth, 

We sought the tone of the atmosphere’s melody and matched it with our own. 

Two stations down, 

In the wilder parts, 

Past the smallest town. 

Tragedy befalls while rehearsing comedy that finally draws no laughter, 

And our buxom breasts begin to bloom too large and bright, 

Everything withers, a little more and a little less comical. 

We retire to a place with Elm trees, 

All egregious is our air, 

Beside fronds of things, without any names, 

Beside our pond filled with tears of despair. 
 

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