09-28-2016, 09:03 PM
Damn. I wrote this, then went and checked the examples again, and read the Fire one, which I guess I must have read somewhere before. So this looks very derivative. Now it's 1am and I'm going to bed.
Lush, your warm hair as it tumbles down over us, full of shocks your gypsy lips finding mine, full as your body which is all brimming harvest fruits combined. You are the wildfire that races to claim mountains, beautiful and deadly. You are the trees that grow only to burn, and the timeless rock of the land, you are the sky that arches above. You are the thundering storms and floods that follow. You are the first shy green of new growth. I tongue salt from your sun-warmed shoulder, feel white sand gritty between us as we move, your fingers like a singer, crooning. We claim our bed between a vast seamless ocean and a jungle’s perfumed growth; a garden of new beginnings, the way the world starts again each time for lovers. Warm shadows stroke the hills, the secret mossy springs, birds sing from hidden shrines. Wind and waves, blood pulse and breath, ebb and flow. The stars change places in their eternal waltz as we dance our flesh tango. You make me whole. We’ll sit here again, facing the sea as the earth turns away from the sun, breathing the waves, the song of our touching, the taste of salt on your shoulder, the touch of sand-dusted skin. Your warm cinnamon hair.
Lush, your warm hair as it tumbles down over us, full of shocks your gypsy lips finding mine, full as your body which is all brimming harvest fruits combined. You are the wildfire that races to claim mountains, beautiful and deadly. You are the trees that grow only to burn, and the timeless rock of the land, you are the sky that arches above. You are the thundering storms and floods that follow. You are the first shy green of new growth. I tongue salt from your sun-warmed shoulder, feel white sand gritty between us as we move, your fingers like a singer, crooning. We claim our bed between a vast seamless ocean and a jungle’s perfumed growth; a garden of new beginnings, the way the world starts again each time for lovers. Warm shadows stroke the hills, the secret mossy springs, birds sing from hidden shrines. Wind and waves, blood pulse and breath, ebb and flow. The stars change places in their eternal waltz as we dance our flesh tango. You make me whole. We’ll sit here again, facing the sea as the earth turns away from the sun, breathing the waves, the song of our touching, the taste of salt on your shoulder, the touch of sand-dusted skin. Your warm cinnamon hair.