Upon barren soil,
a single tulip blossoms;
resuscitation.
Sawyer S.
Tag: nature
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If I ever have the chance of change,
I shall don this hood
and not puddle from rain.
Sawyer S.
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a novel: insecurity, departed
prologue: an angel turned harlot with chapters splattered in scarlet
his carcass is tarnished, heartless
he felt like a fallacy, a malady rotting much like the spoiled apple she gave him that brisk December day.
he gave it to every angel since though rumor slanders him as a thorned prince
today there is much to his garden. Autumn has shared her harvest.
and if all remains honest, these pages shall not be tainted in scarlet
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a timid facade. there was something insidious about this woman. for the greater portion of this Saturday i watched her, teetering the balance between admiration and bewilderment. she possessed exquisite taste. jealousy corrupted my eyes, for a red cocktail dress that worshiped her every curve had tormented my intention of a tame Saturday. my gums began to thirst for skin. my hand began to choke the glass of bourbon i had been nursing. i thieved one last gaze of her impeccable figure. i left. forever enamored by the shiver of my Mistress whom i recall as Winter.
Addict Brain Poetry by Sawyer 