Clasp my hand around hers, I did, with unfeigned fervor, unbridled bathos, and eyes effulgent with incursive adoration, succumbing to veritable essences of that deranged divinity we identify boundless love with. Amidst the overbearing crowd of automatons, under the besmirched tree of copper, atop windswept ledges of moss, we sat huddled together, mortal peril of capture occluding further touch, much to our mutual dissent and concordant crave for disciplinarian misconduct. Yet, the heaven in relentless bloom beckoned our restive hearts with amorous allure, helping construct an enamored tenement around the cinder blocks upholding the sanctity of intimacy one shared with the seraphic other.
Follow we did its genteel legislature, up the thrumming beehive where fate favoured frisks to frictionless fondness, bred inviolable affection thicker than honey, and granted sincere alliance sweeter than so. Our union burgeoned our engendered solidarity, and defined precisely the steely litheness of the hallmark of our independence. We were gargantuan beings under the byzantine aegis of an intergalactic utopia facilitating our holy communion.
Find ourselves before long, we did, in the alcoves of dimensions indecipherable, over the inscrutable tide of time, beyond sibylline speculations of abstractions, basking in the arduous afterglow of bodily consummation, saturated with foreign sweat, savoring an exotic taste, with lips scorched shut, mouths sucked dry, privates satisfyingly violated, fanning the flaming aura of our naked souls, quivering from the remnants of unparalleled pleasures undone, and recovering from the abstemious glory of an overtly satiated carnal hunger. Reminisce we did, with idle trepidation, about the golden hours since that intoxicating sting of love.
Her cosmic breath, redolent with the aroma of celestial camphor, painfully evanescent, and emanating from the heatless flames of preternatural planetoid collisions enshrined within her deified perfection, makes my reverent nostrils want to forestall forever its potentate sense of liberal olfaction. She is the single, most profound, uni-verse for the universe, a beautiful paradox dressed in the raiment garb of arrested time, from whom I stayed asunder lest I not falter at my worship of this goddess.
Flawless fingers fidgeting,
Pudgy palms philandering,
Scornful stares spouting,
Wedged willows waving.
Our hands wished to keep holding on to each other, but soon enough, the wretched finger neonates began shooting out of my fingertips and drew in space with its agitated set of tiny fingers the word ‘Father’.
We had held our hands for too dangerously long a time.
The Unconditional Maverick