Embryotic Dragonflies

I've been on holiday. Getting uber loads of inspiration. Here's the babbles written whilst in London.


He laces his soft, patchwork hands around her waist;
just as the ivy compliments the towering oaks. A click
of his fingers and flocks of dragonflies, butterflies

seep through the cream and ebony of her angel underwear.
Embryotic sensitivity scribed as love letters and tissue
paper valentines; alkaline medicines for acidic

headaches and sickly hate. The aesthetic metaphors of
his enchanted eyes set the abstract, fragmented patterns
of his sweet, heavy metal soul; master of angels

stroking spines and wings. He simply adores to bathe
her pretty emerald tipped toes in fond fairytales
and weaves romance at her heels, where her polka dot

dress screams at her knees. It's the light touch of
arms around ribs that brings her out in paroxsyms of
romance. She bears a trinket of amniotic spirit hidden

within the left of her chest, behind her soft, velvet
flesh. Heavy with passion; pregnant with tender emotion.
A delicate locket, tattered and torn with enigma...

Immensely prettiful.

You never cease to amaze me. Stunning.

Thank you. Oodles of thank you's.

Anyone else?