Let the woman say in her heart, it is the beautiness of my song that sings songs of praise and adoration and of love making, sweet passionate love to my lover whether in cooking, whether in cleaning, whether in pampering she found her soul mate that works with her and not against her. Then for her to be sent a bitter fragrance that develops throughout and climbs up her body as a plant whose vines, whose leaves and pedals cover her like clothing of satin, velvet or silk sheets covering her body. She is the woman who looks at herself in the mirror that cannot find there is another like her and she adorns herself with precious jewels and gemstones from the beauty brought about the ground to clothe her. Her taste buds are forgiveness, but her food is bitter. The bitterness of what she thought once clothed her were clothing of a sly fox dressed to attract but were inner wolves, vicious to eat her babies like prey, weak and pulling with all its fibers to climb up her body, they developed into bubbles of pure gas, turning into chemicals. But that was not her intent at all. Someone else planted those vines, weeds and thistles and they brought up and spread throughout into the other vines that they choked the life of some then they died. youtube/watch?v=ObTUplEoCww
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 01:44:34 +0000
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