Felt like writing something different. Oh, and I've used the phrase 'lynx cowrie' somewhere along the way - it's a sort of seashell, just in case you were unsure...
She's a beachcomber baby; picture perfect in
shells and starfish. She just loves to push her
hybrid paws against the sandy coastline, and swirl
her fingers through the amniotic haze. So softly
dressed in UV protection, patterned fabrics, and
rose tinted glasses; she sighs at the quiet embrace
of the ocean waves. The water's edge has never been
a conventional paradise for feline angels.
You wouldn't think to craft a sanctuary and retreat
from buckets, spades, driftwood and dunes. She just
loves the friction of her lover's skin against her
spine and wings, soothing soft lotion into her
sensitive flesh. Hearts and minds wrapped up in beach
towels and sun hats. Dainty, painted toenails peeking
through sandals. She's postcard seduction in every way;
caught in candid shots and ambient light.
She takes his firm hands in hers, and traces his
fingers to carve declarations of romance into the
salt swept shore. Tokens of nautical valentines,
angel corals, and lynx cowrie kisses paint much
softer affections than vanity tales and chaotic
hate. As the horizon burns aflame, and the sunset
beckons to the stars; her eyes fall as sleepy as the
waxing moon. She loves almost nothing more than to
fall to quiet sleep against his loving flesh. Magic
claims many different forms; swirling through
rockpools and capturing the sky.