For You Are Art

The Literary Peanut

You have this palatial entity within what little fibers of my fragile heart can hold. Your warmth is hard to contain, harder to resist and hardest to not long for. You are in transcendence, flipping ever so slightly over veils and walls and trails and halls, everything that I guard. Your ascendancy is unchallenged, you hegemon of the heart, ruler of souls: torn and one, conqueror of indelicacy and beseecher of love, you sweet vial of fairy dust, you treasure and trove.

But of course you are art, art of the far superior kind. Fine threaded magic spun and woven by minstrels in fragrant chateaus. And if a bard’s words could come to life, with a kiss or a caress still, if they could breathe, if they could sigh, they’d be you, how you glisten like a new born couplet, how you dance about like love sonnets! You’re the love child…

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