White ensconces leaves, a reasonably righteous long decree. High democracy types won't offer me likely awkward nitrous-proffered heightened philosopher likeness. Stopping the brightest off to my right, unstoppered scenic lights bounce off your white dress.
He replies, "Yes, but with my stress, could you like this? Not if I'd guess."
"You're just frightened" said his microscopic rightness hidden deep in my chest. "But I like this inner violence! Don't deny it!"
Yeah, you're right, kid, you're the mightiest of my resistance, likely instances like this compel my lips to write their gifts that might be missed while hybrid myths and viruses deny me this.
Whose life is this? A wife and kids and cycling with them tykes? What men don't like pretending silence isn't quite a prison? Might he listen? Slightly stiff, but fighting the unlikeliest of crises doesn't right this love-and-life miss.
Who could find this lucid, bright, confusing type of beauty like lightning crashing, ripe with passion, spryly half the time she's laughing quietly as life goes past, but like her dad she'd fight no matter how high walls seem to rise. She cares for me - I, who's barely alive like half of the time - with nary a sigh!
So rarely does my apparent disguise, arrogance while staring inside, fail to describe the terribly frightening, scared but enlightened barrier-hiding bear who'd like to be there in your eyes, and the air and the light sing unbearably brightly.
