There’s been such quarrels, the men and women both appear tense; 

They are red from danger, because it is now summer. I cannot help 

from smiling. Uprooting the cheer of bee’s sexcerzising the demons. 

Like the lines beneath a skirt. You smell like opium and tears. You 

feel like wind with warmth, as you fill the space so sweetly. I want to 

be the memory to your scar, well call on me I won’t be far. I live for 

the reflex of the last breath, a dream to vent in sensational flesh. 

Dance with your anger, dance with your sorrow, dance with your devil 

he’ll be gone tomorrow. Now that you are mine; I write about you like 

the flower that blossoms by my window. It is dying but it is beautiful 

each moments is precious. I smell it till it rots; The way I long for your 

scent to blend into my skin like its perfume; I carry it into my half sleep 

as my hands move unspeakably into the softest flesh. 
by: Vanessa Matic