kiss-the-boot

Pink toes in silver sandals and her nights had gone sick Their heads turned around to see it, then they turned again forward. She laid there backward, covered in disguise. He was bending her already bent legs And she had nothing to say for herself, and nothing more to show. The phoenix was her only hope The principle, the idea Of new. Somehow so covered, protected from herself, the bad, the good. Fear of that screaming and winding street Her sick and worthless mind feared that rose coloured, peach scented and orchid filled afternoon. But when? And how long will she wait for This fiery bird To rise up And how can it? On a brigh