Never did my time involve radiant stores from a crimson tide, you had my word, to the forevermore, a bind to the recluse soul, residing by way of acute passage, at sum of airs brightly i cup to a crimson hold, virtual by the obtuse. Frame of virtue, veins from width to breadth, a course for our defiant chalice of, sweetened love, by the rippling tide of a nurtured store to uphold. Web’s and time, indefinite to the cobs midnight dust, dreams of us be foreseen, breath to a lantern of refrain, knowing to uphold the key, pillars made to form abating lust.

2020 Adam Blewett ©