Are you not weary, O desert dust witches? I cannot see who waltzes with you In close embrace. But your lips meet hotly in kisses, your hair is disheveled, your ribbons are flying, your skirts are in tatters. The music you dance to it comes from fiddles bewitched.
Tag: Esáu Yori
And I think there are people that you'll always be willing to go back to, for you were made from the same colliding clusters of stars. There are parts of you that are parts of them as well– and that's what keeps pulling you back in– live gravity.
Give me a whistle and I'll be there in my puffer coat