Gazing at glistening emeralds set and placed in smooth solace. Hazel specs near the iris are my constant; a deadly fusion of mystery and grace. You blink—life turns slow motion at a fast pace.
My olfactory bulbs are lit with your seraphic scent. I trace freckles on your back—connecting them like constellations. I sync our deep breaths. My lungs have never been so satisfied. You are my beautiful tulip and my fragile dandelion.
Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.
Night. The stars and the moon inpassive, undisturbed, eternal. A little of their impassivity flows into me. They are consoling. They reduce the intensity and acuteness of human sorrow.