Keep your covers below mine.
Watch out for me when the rising furrows leave untraceable hints of upheaval.
Snatch away the scent of hidden display of quarterly love after the trembling rattles of air traffic dissect darkened penance with waves of doubt.
I am in there, if you dare.
Pathways that lead to rising limbs with heart-free thuds of mercy.
You can’t measure sightless wounds with silenced fear of approachability, measuring patterns of bewilderment in footless exits.
I am in here, if you stare.
Restless heaps of laundered spirits may hover with the plight of cruel desertion, but fumbling in the light is the catalyst for summoning permission for the lost to stay.
Rumbling desires to hasten blows of betrayal with the backside of a former lover in the heat of a cold shoulder, instill bonds from turned in sorrow.
When you watch for me in sequences of dreams with chaperoned regrets for the morrow.
Keep your covers below mine.
