they were not
someone you
could lust over,
they were fey,
blood not running
the usual way,
they made me
dream of streams
touched by moon
beams, ice cold
fields at dawn,
every season I
have ever known
breathing within
their bones;
dark woods were
organs once stood;
each touch a
crunch underfoot
revealing another
layer so deep, you
doubt you will
ever reach the
heart of its beat.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 7:09 AM UTC
they were not
someone you
could lust over,
they were fey,
blood not running
the usual way,
they made me
dream of streams
touched by moon
beams, ice cold
fields at dawn,
every season I
have ever known
breathing within
their bones;
dark woods were
organs once stood;
each touch a
crunch underfoot
revealing another
layer so deep, you
doubt you will
ever reach the
heart of its beat.
