“Dogue de Bordeaux”

*(photo by @theanimalplug on IG)*

Garden of the Gods, atonement searching, blowing Kush Cake, while palming some. After my palms up, The Most High blessed me with the discernment to keep my head low and my eyes up.

The guardian doesn’t live with an expectation of a life expectancy which is just a flash — muscles and muscle memory of galloping into wars for those fooled by Trojan horses.

When I arose from my notebook and looked up, she spoke to my soul as a mate, without parting her lips. This divine gift —one of God’s worthy, blessings for being the blessed in which is receiving this gift. She doesn’t know that they tried to kill me.

Or that I’ll die before they can define my existence is this space; before I give them the satisfaction of knowing the intimacy in which I want to graciously give to her. She smiles through greenish-grey eyes, as sun kisses freckles and outlines curves built by God’s hand, for a God body.

A full-bodied red, in fascination with a full-red, sur une véranda dans un château à Bordeaux. Where no expectations bring the greatest revalations of what we define as true.