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Abstract
world over touch capitulating in folds that blister with roughness across the expanse of you.</p><p id="353b">Bareback. My hair falls. The ride.</p><p id="f1d8">Quantum in mastery, I blush with the scent of occasion granted vivid with hibiscus splayed in tongues of fuchsia perchance by bliss or stamen in the breezeways of digress.</p><p id="9d9b">If you’d like to read more free verse by <a href="undefined">Dionne Charlet</a>, please click on the link below:</p><div id="6ec6" class="link-block"> <a hre
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f="https://readmedium.com/some-other-nature-9fdc91144654"> <div> <div> <h2>Some Other Nature</h2> <div><h3>where she whispers with thistles</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*[email protected])"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>
Flesh is the fabric of contact worn on the world over touch capitulating in folds that blister with roughness across the expanse of you.
Bareback. My hair falls. The ride.
Quantum in mastery, I blush with the scent of occasion granted vivid with hibiscus splayed in tongues of fuchsia perchance by bliss or stamen in the breezeways of digress.
If you’d like to read more free verse by Dionne Charlet, please click on the link below:
milethis writing serves as a reminder for everybody, including me.
Kris GageBecause most of “the signs” they tell you are garbage
vina’s memories captured on pagesLove doesn’t arrive by invitation; it unfolds because we surrender to it.
