Her Heart Desired (A sweet pleasure in passion and the sustenence of a crimson rose, perhaps in the way of dreams and vampires)

Ron Koppelberger

Her Heart Desired

Christened and given divine baptism, tinctured in gold iris ideas, buried in attained textures of December liberty, she traced the reckoning of enlivened chance. Best kept in ritual worshipping passion, the brimful affection she anticipated was probable, looking wild by the grace of her desire and rapt obsession. The myth of unique ministry unto the bond of love, the confederate speckles of occasion and wont, telling in the truth of her blameless appetite, her heart desired, craved the pulsing flow of fresh daisies and clandestined need. She tended the bloom, the budding blossom of blood in tender province and sweet syrupy thirst. Her heart desired and she derived a taste of warm blooded coquette, acted, sworn, priceless by the tiny bead of scarlet favor.
Her heart desired; the sun in cool ambient closeness and generous indigo affirmation sang in tune to her need, the twilight sky in full rippling poetry, moveable by the insides of a greater passion, by the hungry flesh, by the need for another drink, in what one says to the mystery of forever, the secret commune. Her heart desired and she struggled with the outline of her hold on the earthen sobriety of human necessity and dreams, of abiding liberty, her heart desired heaven and the fresh wash of purpose and in the umbra of her pure belief, she affected fires of survival, affirmed alters of rain and sun borne instinct. Subtle by the will of those before her, her heart desired.