by Tyler Bentley
I want to bare my body,
Adore the simple configuration,
Take on my unyielding lines
And the lumps they call curves.
I must be an angel
An innocent observatory of flesh
And god’s destruction.
My clothes confuse
The bountiful nature of woman
I always breathe into the open mouths of roses.
I hope their petals will
Find the fragrance of my mortality.
A stolen and most anticipated kiss.
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