*I can imagine staircases already
From her legs up,
The sassy strut divine
Of deities descending,
Her curvatures, delight,
Carefully cascading, lather me
As hands on her hands, as fingers,
Or ***** my spirit.
I am nowhere near my mind
Within her mind,
The clauses of her mind, this flower.
O her oblivious flower, opened, bare and all.
I can hear it all already, all,
Her steps deceptive,
The pleasant cries and onomatopoeias,
A princess or a pheasant somewhere,
Surrendering, the grin
Of suffering.
I can sense it, feel it, peal it from our canvasses,
Which were carcasses for so long, taste it,
O sweet molasses,
Which intimacies were hers,
Were mine.
We're mine alone.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
*I can imagine staircases already
From her legs up,
The sassy strut divine
Of deities descending,
Her curvatures, delight,
Carefully cascading, lather me
As hands on her hands, as fingers,
Or ***** my spirit.
I am nowhere near my mind
Within her mind,
The clauses of her mind, this flower.
O her oblivious flower, opened, bare and all.
I can hear it all already, all,
Her steps deceptive,
The pleasant cries and onomatopoeias,
A princess or a pheasant somewhere,
Surrendering, the grin
Of suffering.
I can sense it, feel it, peal it from our canvasses,
Which were carcasses for so long, taste it,
O sweet molasses,
Which intimacies were hers,
Were mine.
We're mine alone.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
