Lick the words dripping off my wound. Lay kisses on my grave cold and neglected.
I pick your words, honeysuckle sweet. Wild as the breeze that blows the warm august sky.
It is the light in your bright august shine eyes, which will warm my cold heart.
Unshed tears in your eyes, sparkling stardust. My tears turn precious when they wash your face.
The nectar of your words going down my throat, with each drop my heart comes alive.
August comes winter will follow. Snow there won’t be but the sun shall come. An unending thought. Waiting for tomorrow. Have a nice weekend guys! toot, toot!