Send the summer

I embrace the body of the summer. It's hot. It's great! Magic! It eludes. Money my senses, and I whispered to him how I needed it. She drops me off. And this time is temporary. His bohemian heart is untrue, but I already carry his generous seed and I'm not sorry, but thankful, for his warm nights and breaths, for our fragrant brief appointments. Love is summer, not suffering and his fingers are still hot. I am not crying. I just smile gently saturated with the lasses salty on my skin. It left quietly, but I know I conceived inspiration.