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terricka-tyndellPoems
He fondled the lines on my palm with tips of his fingers Convinced the heavier with a gentle urge to seek out moonlight Suggested to the thinner to inch upward as if it had lost its way Pressing lips softly against skin unhinging secrets onto landscapes that scream tears, whispering with gazing fingers, secrets unspoken. Holding there the traces of his lips caught beneath a scar on my shoulder. He steadies, pushing breath against body. Somehow, somewhere lost inside And searches for me where he loves to hide. Burning prints on skin as the rhythm of his words fill me. The rough and the swollen seeking light and answers with skin. A thumbnails half moon moves across my thigh quietly to his sense of Grace and he is back inside waiting in the black that surround him warm and wet, sweetly anchored as he softly strains for light—until… a stretch of skin, a pull of flesh is known- and bellies tremble beneath curious shapes into confused laughter and breath His eyes are mine as I collapse and he finds he’s way inside…again
0
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 8:31 AM UTC
the making of memory
He fondled the lines on my palm with tips of his fingers Convinced the heavier with a gentle urge to seek out moonlight Suggested to the thinner to inch upward as if it had lost its way Pressing lips softly against skin unhinging secrets onto landscapes that scream tears, whispering with gazing fingers, secrets unspoken. Holding there the traces of his lips caught beneath a scar on my shoulder. He steadies, pushing breath against body. Somehow, somewhere lost inside And searches for me where he loves to hide. Burning prints on skin as the rhythm of his words fill me. The rough and the swollen seeking light and answers with skin. A thumbnails half moon moves across my thigh quietly to his sense of Grace and he is back inside waiting in the black that surround him warm and wet, sweetly anchored as he softly strains for light—until… a stretch of skin, a pull of flesh is known- and bellies tremble beneath curious shapes into confused laughter and breath His eyes are mine as I collapse and he finds he’s way inside…again
terricka-tyndell
Written by
terricka-tyndell
American
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 8:31 AM UTC
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