The messenger strains to find the king.
The writer searches full throttle for a valued word.
The perfectionist shoots an arrow to her crimson heart.
The king is behind an arras, hiding from the messenger. Why won't the servant wear livery anymore, he fumes.
The messenger removes his jacket when the pigeon drops leavings or leaves droppings on his shoulder.
The scullery maid longs for package-deal love.
Into her kitchen the messenger walks.
He is the one, the scullery maid knows.
He wants nothing but to find the king and get help with dry cleaning.
The writer considers "futility" "honor" "Sierra Leone."
Orgasm is overdone but titillating.
The arras senses it should have been born gay. It longs to be a dress.