How dare I sulk
over dust which has
slipped between my fingers
when poppies are rattling
in damp air
when daises smile up
beaming at their sun
clover and grass gleam
green and iridescent;
the dust which I lost
panged me so to no
avail until today I saw
this was the food
for early June creation.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC
Your crescent moon shape
fits so seamless around me
Nighttime falls and I seek
the boney knuckle wrapped
around my chest
In the silvery cityscape, silence
permeates and I basque in
your peace and sleep talk
Your power over me in passivity
absorbed in the perceived
desire you have for me
Dark, starry nights, early mornings
in which your body, once pressed
with such urgency against mine
became lost in the sensation of
a nervous, covetous warmth
There no longer exists this
sensation, as persistent waning
sent once thunderous waves
into soft rippling and retreat.
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 12:43 PM UTC