4:22 p.m.
Birol,
Please….
Sprightly two beneath the owl-light,
they're an oval ruby calligraphy:
cagey, but guileful in their eminence;
cascading silk upon peacock flowers
interlaced amongst the frescos,
and, strengthened thus,
poach their reward.
Recessed against a pinkened and floral cartouche, they
oscillate within currents of cerulean blue
and fathomless esoteric pales —
they are crucial —
illusory as the rhapsodic sigh of incident,
braced by inmost layers of communion —
sweltering,
whole.
Sworn,
Gidiane
© Copyright 2014 - 2020Seraphime Angelis. All Rights Reserved.
Gidiane
© Copyright 2014 - 2020
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