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nicole-raymondPoems
My heart beats wild and without rhythm as your tender fingerpads brush my embered cheeks. Yet I want to claw the skin you touch til my face is set ablaze with blood. I yearn for the blood burn of your lips at the base of my neck, breath warm and sweet as tea. Though I grip my neck in despair, choking that you cannot love me. Every time I catch your gaze, tensions rise from the pit of my being like freed birds. Still my eyes run as late spring rivers as your tongue cuts me like fresh poultry. My mind flurries with crisp thoughts of you, each gentle and pure as fresh snowfall. Nonetheless, I can only endure the blue-limbed blizzard of self-loathing and blame that should not be mine. Toes curl in ecstasy like vines in bright sunlight as we become one, how I always dreamed. Now my dreams turn to nightmares as my blistered toes carry me mindless through the desert of complete isolation. My own warm fingers brush your face, down the slow slope of your nose to the petals that are your lips. However, they hover, hesitant, unsure that the frame they grace contains the paradox I love.
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Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
How I Feel About You
My heart beats wild and without rhythm as your tender fingerpads brush my embered cheeks. Yet I want to claw the skin you touch til my face is set ablaze with blood. I yearn for the blood burn of your lips at the base of my neck, breath warm and sweet as tea. Though I grip my neck in despair, choking that you cannot love me. Every time I catch your gaze, tensions rise from the pit of my being like freed birds. Still my eyes run as late spring rivers as your tongue cuts me like fresh poultry. My mind flurries with crisp thoughts of you, each gentle and pure as fresh snowfall. Nonetheless, I can only endure the blue-limbed blizzard of self-loathing and blame that should not be mine. Toes curl in ecstasy like vines in bright sunlight as we become one, how I always dreamed. Now my dreams turn to nightmares as my blistered toes carry me mindless through the desert of complete isolation. My own warm fingers brush your face, down the slow slope of your nose to the petals that are your lips. However, they hover, hesitant, unsure that the frame they grace contains the paradox I love.
#love#loss#blood#trust#relationship#breakup#hard#romance#paradox#emotion#sad#angry#betrayed
Written by
nicole-raymond
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 10:43 PM UTC
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