so soft, so perfectly awkward. She holds
my gaze for a moment and water falls
over my stone hands. A name floats
from her tongue, drips like nectar
onto my hesitating lips; I taste more.
Truth glossed over her eyes, I see myself
caught in this lucid reflection of light
—the night ends as morning blooms
opening a sweet staleness of entwined arms
thirsting for a clear sky to grow apart—
yesterday's petals wilt over my mouth
and I forget what I am supposed to feel;
I quickly promise orchids made in Egypt,
and she agrees to sleep with me again.
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You should join 20 Something Bloggers. I have the icon on my blog. That way you'll get more readers, because you're stuff is pretty good!!
ReplyDeleteI really like your writings, Sean.
ReplyDeleteHope to read more.