Air conditioned hour, came to go hang loose glow. Within there as a wind of a phony, blow. A bell for an hour throughout the parking lot dirty, thirty, cars at play with each other, in the lovely backseat, in the parking-lot parking I imagine an hour. And she got a lot to show off. Her naked leather, treat me with a moan desire on equipment equalizer, standard equator zone-
Done back to park our beep remains the sleep, a memory of 🌈 passion during this point of no return.
This very hour. With a scent of her flower after she took a long hot summer shower, of a sparkling lot for an hour with a sound thereof a choir Lei.
Drowning in zeros, the poet in my heart continues. She knows Counting coins and notes for a sunshine shower⛅ 🌈 💓
About the Creator
Paul Noel Cimino
I am a spontaneous spiritual artist
I seek to find answers in the art and writing I create.
I like to express it to my heart and make it come true.
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Public Parking—Fantastic Love Affair
In a beeping between the buttons there is to show on this day to a sunshine hour. A ray among the light of fluffy -clouds, being bear aroused. And we sweat to these flowers. And between the car seats in the backseat so neat your feet, on the gas pedal of heat. That it’s theatrical drama living in color, loving vibrations between us slower. In our hour of blu, so I can tell you that you are of the moon burning shower.
By Paul Noel Cimino5 years ago in Poets
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