Selene without a scene

Hyacinth garden


a special play when your fingers stray

more memories covered by obvious occurrence

wait for the sun to go down cut back the power

at midnight under the spell of the serene, in the witching hour


there is a secret favor a reach for droplets

softcopy in darkened inclination of the amulet

the trickle can tickle the connection, if any, is obscure

an implored feeling sometimes impossible to procure 


it is easy to stroke, as provided stimuli provoke

but when you cannot find the right key stroke

it is just a case of guilt ware without a scene

with one finger on the pulse seeing Selene


strain strings, faster then is needed velvet petals falling

strings strain listen to the low hum of a strum

the appetite, in the night it enters perfection of the sum

it is the utmost of hunger hear this lonely voice of longing calling



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