Yes, just far along enough to know.
Already honing her hipnotic charms
And siren aura.
So perfectly impeccably so.
Except for a certain vibration,
Conceived through lascivious penetration,
And essentially expilation.
Face small, brows furrowed.
Came twice from which she burrowed.
So miniscule, lionized to thrive.
In the memory
In the heart
In the mind and words
And thoughts and actions
Of your infant of a mother
In which you were out-survived.
Now her story of lazy insomnia insues.
About how bashfully the matriarch was screwed.
Twice came from where she herself burrowed.
And still sits in the same place
Where you met your beginning.
And curtsied to your end.
But they say voraciously under their innocuous breath,
God does't throw things at you that you can't handle...
No, maybe so...they neglected to admit though...
Its not the things that he gives thats worth apprehending...
but the things that he so gracefully rips from you
That you should be weary of.
So sorry madames and sirs
Who still valiantly apply.
Mind the Gap.
The wounds still have yet to dry.