TooSawn Trigger
Brenden: Desert wanderer, heart squanderer, struggling writer.
the tale of johnny
Again, his abyssal eyes
swept over the shores of the lake,
his vision kissing the limestone
always hoping—never doubting
—to kiss not the smooth pebbles
but a face of white marble
with the ever-so-carefully etched
features of the ethereal Aphrodite.
How she would wade
through the gelatinous mists,
with only her flowing locks of brunette
fluttering into his wistful eyesight.
If only those waves of keratin
could be as tangible as the waves
which enshrouded her
in a suffocating fog.
He longed for her with ardour:
not even to make love, perhaps only to kiss.
Not even to kiss, perhaps only to hold.
Not even to hold, perhaps only to sleep.
Not even to sleep, perhaps only to lay.
Perhaps just to hear the undertones of her sigh,
because every breath was a supernova
and he was a lowly star gazer.
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