I paint a portcullis on her heartstring wall. The stones of her ramparts are brittle but pliable. My brush strokes are easy and elegant. Guided by years of practice and refined by deft intelligence.
Later, I slip through the rear-guard bars like an infiltrator. I carry a backpack stuffed lazily with questions and curiosity. She knows I'm coming, but raises no alarm at my intrusion.
8:56 p.m. - 2015-06-21
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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