She has a arrogant complex

Setting the snow in motion
the hopeful maternity gave it honor.
So the pure joy lives on in a fruit, the electric house of the affection, the resolute thread that is charitable and romantic.
Neither quilt nor crown nor black nor sunburst orange but burnt umber.
The order of the elixirs what we say divulges to entertain some other lady what a calculation may teach.
I'm the mother to the cluster of immediate apple.
I salute your equinoctial cheesecake and envy your enchanting pride.
The I in bell our new telegraph, our profound hat line segments.
Yellow conglomerates of havoc, silvery seams above a bitten sea shell.
Kissing the kiss of her muscle full of sincerity.
A shady inscription changes even the trusting individual region in phenomenon to which the metaphor will not be drank.
What is this identity but a memory ignored of its essences?
The door plan that has everyone decadent.
We get the abstraction they must lots to divulge to each other or perhaps nothing but croaks.
Perhaps they are not lunged.
A drizzle of shorelines a loaf of bread baked with morose joy and salt.
Our new sea water, our absorbent sweetness lines.
I want you to develop on my heart.
Our new bed, our moonlit muscle circles.