Fragile edge, sad abundance. Where health is vitally criminal, wild care for the body the temple is in. The heart preempted, its lavish invention. Oh, you mean THAT temple, made of gold, like the seal on a king's ring, and a dome of ruby.
Yes, that temple I know. Well enough to shine
desire. It was a miniature cosmos.
A critic magic tramp she enjoyed the lyric freedom of expended lust, handled flesh, encounter trial by disguise and one strap beyond.