There are many examples of beauty so beautiful plain morality will fail to resist it. Wrong will be done. The eyes I had then knew I was the dusky planet warmed by her supernatural sun.
We were in the subway. She had just turned forty. I was a smoker, drank orange juice, and wrote poetry secretly at work. Can you believe this poem? Another guy-poem? A dude as an infant? And most of the time I'm a jerk?
A confluence of black and mauve moments, a look that said, "she is no longer inside out, but finally can be a soul wrought so beauty floats (the highest) gazing particularly at me."
You cannot escape. You will feel the flame. Love and shadows are uniquely combined. Objectivity and beauty are the same.
