The Shop My Mother Swims
Your lips are tucked in honey and ginseng,
with kisses so powerful to melt into precious smalls in today’s romance,
hungry to sip softly by the Wishing Star’s towering flare.
Rain Deer through your elbow, by this funny bone,
you have a fresh wish for your great infusional bod in its titanium hue,
born to pass, living lock-horns,
picture to the perfect mist as you disengage with psychology in motion.
Tonight at this morning you’re free to fall,
come away sagging to motions deep under the arriving colors,
too rich to be weak by the growth of lovely environs.
You make me remember like a subtle magnet,
as you walk the gardens in the push you let go,
pulling strings, turning my heart upside down,
as you do shop to keep, a spirit of casual fortunes and delights in vain,
growing and beginning to die for an extra life to pour life.
*It's a distortion of my mountain community and quite daring in sharpness.
Sure, why not have a cupcake while you see this?
I'm the kind of guy who goes to restaurants and gets influenced by abstract paintings or the kinds which make you feel comfortable although you don't know either reality or fiction through them.
Now look "carefully" at my artworks and analyze between them, because I myself wouldn't buy all of my artworks to hang on my walls (in fact there's a mixture in my house of my work and other people's work, mostly other people's).
* *(About the Poem)-This all started when I had mom sip some tea and started conversation on French phrases.
https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/
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