Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2019
darling,
stroke me in this instance
strike me in my temple,
there is patience here;
the ground on which we stand
for now,
knows no fury
the sky is washed with lemonade
and you can see, on the outskirts
a dark, foaming omen.
but never mind him.
we are in an aperture,
angel sweat cascades
like sparks off an anvil
stain the soul with an evergreen petrichor.
we are human. and we are not.

lemonade, aperture, petrichorβ€”
the sky will enrich my hand
with yours.
Written by
arbor  M/the milky way
(M/the milky way)   
309
     The Invisible Lantern and Jules
Please log in to view and add comments on poems