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Apr 21
Calling burns.
Sunset leaks from my lips at the touch of your name.
Orange sky fills my throat and belly and soft wisps of clouds puff beside my Cupid's bow.
You are the glow brimming along the edges of a dark world.
The precipice of peace and fire, tickling the jagged upcroppings on the horizon.
Melted sunshine, you overflow.
Liquid wax and flowers.
Drips.
Passes between our lips.
You are treacherously beautiful
My tragic aubade.
Written by
Meggie Delaney
98
 
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