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L. Manukia
Bio
Stories (3/0)
my sun is a peach.
my sun is a peach. my sun unfurls smooth skin to reveal sweet essence in moments of passion and love. his taste tangy and long lasting, must it not be forgotten. when he bears himself to the howls and rains of the day, his hanging in the sky illuminating shadows into nothingness, he stays soft and warm-colored even still. if the day be too warm in times of his winter, he stays wrapped within it and bears himself in love. my sun’s hands on my waist as that sweet, sweet essence pollinates the day into Spring yet once more and the bees fly in uncontrollable hums throughout the sky, I wantonly take a bite of him against his neck. he is velvet on my tongue.
By L. Manukia3 years ago in Poets
"Annie, are you OK?"
The universe is fickle in its humor; objectively the perception of it usually takes a neutral stance between "good" or "bad" (if only due to averaging the the two out), but, subjective to the individual, it fluctuates between either/or without promise of consistency, with "bad" nearly always being more impactful than "good" to said individual. For example, as is going with the humor of the universe, it is with each time a man says “it will not happen to me” that the chances it will seemingly increase by ten, and the universe laughs itself to sleep in a blanket of your scorn. It's humorous, really, but I digress.
By L. Manukia3 years ago in Beat