Wordle #89

Week 89

One by one they surrender

the idle, the pretentious, the threadbare.

The nebulous pivot, warm in alliteration,

hands cascade over curves twice their volume.

A velvet crushed frock draped

in your heartbeats bolts across the floor.

We are young, naive as such, willing to spare.

I drink the ethanol from your lips,

your eyes pollen-hazed. And we dance

tripping on fascination, two Ateliers

locked in armistice. You”ll never outdo me

my soul is vociferous and psychedelic.

I glimpse you spilling wine into the washbasin

squeamish silks a fracture of misaligned palates.

You’re mad, mind-fucked by the divine,

I love you in all the ways that stigmatize.

We are still painting. We had the idea to paint and stencil a pattern, that takes a long time haha. This week I am truly slammed aside from the painting/clean up. I have several meetings, a fund-raising event for Isadora’s school plus Lucia. I have so many pinched nerves right now! Left wrist, right shoulder, right hip. I have a brace for my wrist which works wonders but the other stuff I am just going to have to wait it out and try to relax. I attempted to write something for you today. Please forgive me for the lack of comments this week and the slowness.