Better yet, no regret

There are butterflies romping about. The view from here is more than I could ever have imagined. The butterflies fleetly flee and glow under the pale moon. Even the city's lights glimmer in sync with the flap, flap, flapping of the winged creatures that inhabit the night. Float, float, floating; I feel the cold breeze rush. Drip, drop, dripping; I hear the faucet's beats. This may be something or I will make it something. The sand ahead seemed to have formed a face. I centered that face to the light having myself believe it was impossible to attract in the way I had dreamed. But my doubt was a great fault with my judgment in disarray. I suspect that my falling will bring more to my wishes. Soft to the touch and soothing to the ears, my rosy cheeked lovely from the far cross. Sleep, sleep, sleeping for now till the morrow. You will awake and I will be waiting.

My teeth belong on that neck of yours.