She
Tends
To
Like to divulge to a seriously
Self-anointed point
Where bygones be simply
That thing permittedly left to own devices
Oh so sumptuously
Spliced til but murmuring little
Inanimate things
Indeed, She seems to settle her fond fond soul
To match and meet beautified rigamarole for equally delicious gusto
You know that she built it all from
Utter imagination – such a sophomore, cellophane tease sensation
Carries with her pretty upright aside rather tantalised and sprightly heightened instances – so lend her your fond, found time and wine and dine and sit atop her prioritised pleads
Til she beestings you oh so fucking goddamn magically
A tragedy not to feel this memorably fantastical sting in the boomerang tail
———————————————
