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ryanne-tatePoems
Slipping off a tight skin. Slipping off the elastic that hugs my curls to my scalp, Itching my scalp and slipping under my covers, I remember the feeling of your toes nuzzling mine, Our little creatures in their cozy black cavern, Your hands on my waist Haunt me. I have a picture of you That I’ve tried to draw so many times I can feel it stained charcoal black on the backs of my eyelids. You are under a tree and you are butter yellow And it is warm and soft, And the branches are twisting around us like safety nets. I wonder how many times I’ve started to fall apart, Just to have this image catch me. Somewhere it is summer, Somewhere this is new and we are strangers. Somewhere I am bug bites, bruises and boots, And I walk into the room where you sit Unknowing that soon, There will not be a room I enter Without looking for your skinny nose And smile.
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
Untitled
Slipping off a tight skin. Slipping off the elastic that hugs my curls to my scalp, Itching my scalp and slipping under my covers, I remember the feeling of your toes nuzzling mine, Our little creatures in their cozy black cavern, Your hands on my waist Haunt me. I have a picture of you That I’ve tried to draw so many times I can feel it stained charcoal black on the backs of my eyelids. You are under a tree and you are butter yellow And it is warm and soft, And the branches are twisting around us like safety nets. I wonder how many times I’ve started to fall apart, Just to have this image catch me. Somewhere it is summer, Somewhere this is new and we are strangers. Somewhere I am bug bites, bruises and boots, And I walk into the room where you sit Unknowing that soon, There will not be a room I enter Without looking for your skinny nose And smile.
ryanne-tate
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ryanne-tate
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 1:13 PM UTC
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