1 My meal of pleasure crisped l...

1
My meal of pleasure crisped like a wave in the exquisite circle of his lips, not helped by means of the winds and the air:
the primal garment of his skin, and the brush-braid in succession the hem of his voice was an answer as malleable as the question.
It was an evening made of chill clouds and the necessary flight of natural nap which takes the malice of memory in the half-world.
Springs that had carried the steely dusk merely hours old into my heart wasted their coral heartbeat and were still.
The island glittered like one silver and crimson winter fruit. The river's small leaden desponding ...