Because words are all evil and uncouth. Now there is a waterfall and waves across her forehead. Her gaze is like a rocket in a starless night sky. Cascading tresses and waterworks in her eyes.
There was a mighty serpent in her throat and the twitch of her nose was a warm embrace. The table around her was in need of cleaning. The clutter was in her head. The rocking chair was a lullaby. The empty wine bottles were half past midnight and like faithful ardor.
Her tea was chamomile, gaping pride. Healing the inner sanctum sanctorum. There were rose petals for a bed and sleep was in the mind.
The drapes were half drawn and the moon light shone through it.
She was paradise.
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