caught within the rain,
i taste its gentle texture
as tears upon porcelain cheeks
such an intimate exchange
i can scarcely breathe
or audibly express
sensual aromas
through words' simplicity
I have spent a lifetime
in silences. [unspoken]
traumas committed
against my tongue;
for years,
I heaved snow against
my chest
cultivated forbidden
territories so frightfully
polar, i can no longer . . .
handle their sharp-shapes
without the ecstasy
of frostbite
through winter's moonlit veil,
i sense your heat,
a telepathy of tenderness, hands coaxing
me from murky waters;
come for me
your prodigal soul-
reborn
rekindle these heated
passions,
unclasp my mind,
unfasten the sash
restraining these chapped lips,
thaw each
finger within
your eyes' firelight,
let me feast
upon your mellow night,
clothed in laughter,
wounds exposed
as damp rose petals,
pull me toward
your heart's
shelter, so this loneliness
may find
(at long last)
a nested branch of rest
within the wingspan
of your nocturnal song
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 9:35 PM UTC
caught within the rain,
i taste its gentle texture
as tears upon porcelain cheeks
such an intimate exchange
i can scarcely breathe
or audibly express
sensual aromas
through words' simplicity
I have spent a lifetime
in silences. [unspoken]
traumas committed
against my tongue;
for years,
I heaved snow against
my chest
cultivated forbidden
territories so frightfully
polar, i can no longer . . .
handle their sharp-shapes
without the ecstasy
of frostbite
through winter's moonlit veil,
i sense your heat,
a telepathy of tenderness, hands coaxing
me from murky waters;
come for me
your prodigal soul-
reborn
rekindle these heated
passions,
unclasp my mind,
unfasten the sash
restraining these chapped lips,
thaw each
finger within
your eyes' firelight,
let me feast
upon your mellow night,
clothed in laughter,
wounds exposed
as damp rose petals,
pull me toward
your heart's
shelter, so this loneliness
may find
(at long last)
a nested branch of rest
within the wingspan
of your nocturnal song
A love story, a fantasy piece collected from the cold embers of poetic silence when the muse is mute, and all I long for is her conversation through my pen once again.
Request permission to use this poem