Waltzing the Bee's Knees

Upon my hesitant return to that alkali haven, I closed my eyes and tapped into a sliver of historic cosmic dust. There I sat, a fragment of self. We held close hearts and rocked each other back into place. 

Awake. Did you smile at the sparkle that danced back into your eye? A garbage mouthful of dense words holding onto a tongue long after they escaped the heart, fell out. Onto your lap,  they left a wrong impression.

Can you feel it? The lies you tell your heart? It’s a crooked short cut for fans of fame, not the real word. Love becomes a sophisticated cookie,  what becomes nookie?

A cheap skate off a cliff, nose dive, face plant.

That ain’t me, Molly. But by golly if the deft don’t turn out punk, and that dark mysterious creature opens his cave to let her beautiful light in. Sometimes, these moments she wants to parade her song, grin. Hiatus is not weakness; the breakthrough is greatness. Hand me a stringed machine. I’ll grow you an inspiring destination.

Now listen, my foot steps you will trip in and my arms you will sob in. It’s a long road to standing, this patience to step down to levels with you. My eyes meet with portals to truth seeking beams and your stories never come true.

I love with great sentiments and hold on to forgiveness for you.

© 2020 by FreeKParlor

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