Noir, The Primrose, Within the moon we sat, a lofty raven and the spotted dove, driven meticulously through a broken, shifting zenith, Where our feathers bloomed bioluminescent-ly setting aglow the silver, sighing sands, and the forsaken, fragile stardust, A must we galavant as our beaks drown dearly beneath the brim of a soul reaving zinfandel, hued thusly thy everberry, Marked thereof water lilies whispering about those dragonflies that waltz remarkably around their Victorian crown, Elated art we masquerading amidst the […]

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