lost scrolls of Jezebel – VIII

[…] she was watching the withered leaves lace wearily fringing a mud wave on the road side, garnishing with mandarin-like reflections the remains of the rain gathered in a small hole. he looked at her as she was standing there, protecting on her lips that single ray of sun escaping the ashen blanket from above, and he suddenly remembered her wild strands spread all over his pillow the night before, curling like Medusa’s snakes around his dreams. his hearing still scented with her sighs and moans, he smiled her back by his side and asked “could you now untie my hands?” […]

 

 

© Liliana Negoi

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