Coming High Voice

Find Her love in corners and jugs, to speling beasts, She’s wonton ‘n lugs. Follow me and see. Apportion a potion of burned emotion with a touch of touched and free. Get there how you must. She’s waiting, six deep in texts, a cadence intoxicating. Strong thighs, she never writes, just loves and cries. Can’t you feel her drums and sighs? Listen. Here. Hear. She’s beating, bleeding, pleading. We are ever one story. Listen closer and join us, the touched. Me and her ring meandering.

Fates and Greeds broke my legs for pleads. Come take illuminating rides with me, like Job cross’t skies, with seven daughters that play at these, the Pleiades. Eldest Maia, Electra, Taygete, Alcyone, Celaeno, Sterope to sweet child Merope. Firebrands who give us hope. Like Jemimah, Keziah and Keren-happuch combined, trio trope so sure. Job’s girls, lovely, strong and pure. The prophetess, soft in us, in the pages you pined. Mattress and justice keep pounding, take s’ages to find.

 

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