Qwynneth Dlamini

missed like mist on summers day are when brown arms and green necks thrive on sunlight and gist
footsteps and good meds in sync to beat of crux as luxurious rubber gives its everlasting kiss sound and sight be many but lost into melody of her voice where they stand in lists
flora and fauna swaddled into meagre lights as she gets stingy with the rays like mountain feeling rises which gives path to that swollen nimbostratus fists
arch loses march into gravel and bitten wrists and tears and hidden cysts while night declares omega and alpha to unending war until they come in roses and violets in face of kist