Scaly ******* shudder with a gutter-gray cleaving.
She misses the calming touch of her breezy paramour,
and their nostalgic days vent in pitched-white whispers.
If I could breathe back those mists, I might lessen her sorrow ...
Too-rigid muscles slide into aqua spasms.
She fidgets at the lack of fuss her fragments show,
and the brittle hours snap at the metallic-blue cracks.
If I could massage those bursts, I might slacken her worry ...
A caustic blood simmers up vermilion bubbles.
She whiles ways for the weakly spotted to crumble,
and languishing minutes dissolve with yolk-yellow pops.
If I could stomach those boils, I might keep her from breaking.
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 2:10 PM UTC
Scaly ******* shudder with a gutter-gray cleaving.
She misses the calming touch of her breezy paramour,
and their nostalgic days vent in pitched-white whispers.
If I could breathe back those mists, I might lessen her sorrow ...
Too-rigid muscles slide into aqua spasms.
She fidgets at the lack of fuss her fragments show,
and the brittle hours snap at the metallic-blue cracks.
If I could massage those bursts, I might slacken her worry ...
A caustic blood simmers up vermilion bubbles.
She whiles ways for the weakly spotted to crumble,
and languishing minutes dissolve with yolk-yellow pops.
If I could stomach those boils, I might keep her from breaking.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Request permission to use this poem