Turns a soft pirouette of finger end
Along the ridges of discs that make the spine
And I mark a period to end the sentence
Written upon soft skin
Smooth as a relaxed sigh that escapes parted lips
In a gentle exhale of seconds ticked off
One check (tick)
Two check ( tock)
I scribe to small of back where hollow forms
Letting tongue taste the salt of sweat glistening
Before a rise of hip curves to please eyes
Or palms that might erase dark windows staring back
At the blank gaze of face lost inside
The mirage of dreams
Three check (tick)
Four check ( clock tocked seconds rhyme)
With vowels moaned to the whisper of poems
Glyphed a slow summons of wrists gently turned
To show the veins that lie beneath as I bled softly
Along the nerves a simple thread of heartbeat
Rhythms show how a verse ends
A metaphor for the ribs caged
And stone to hold apart the looking glass world
Of Cheshire grins upon lips wet with wry spittle
Licked by tip of tongue
Breathes soft once upon times
To inhale the scent of amaryllis bloom
Gracing glass of its own with fair heads bloom
Petals of delicate hue opened vulnerable to bruise
Five check ( tick )
Six check ( toggle along mark of hands the tock)
I scribe soft to the end of line and pirouette fingers end
Marking a period again to end the simple words
Brushed upon a supple velum
And begin
Seven check (tick)
Second hands slow circles
Matching my own...
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Turns a soft pirouette of finger end
Along the ridges of discs that make the spine
And I mark a period to end the sentence
Written upon soft skin
Smooth as a relaxed sigh that escapes parted lips
In a gentle exhale of seconds ticked off
One check (tick)
Two check ( tock)
I scribe to small of back where hollow forms
Letting tongue taste the salt of sweat glistening
Before a rise of hip curves to please eyes
Or palms that might erase dark windows staring back
At the blank gaze of face lost inside
The mirage of dreams
Three check (tick)
Four check ( clock tocked seconds rhyme)
With vowels moaned to the whisper of poems
Glyphed a slow summons of wrists gently turned
To show the veins that lie beneath as I bled softly
Along the nerves a simple thread of heartbeat
Rhythms show how a verse ends
A metaphor for the ribs caged
And stone to hold apart the looking glass world
Of Cheshire grins upon lips wet with wry spittle
Licked by tip of tongue
Breathes soft once upon times
To inhale the scent of amaryllis bloom
Gracing glass of its own with fair heads bloom
Petals of delicate hue opened vulnerable to bruise
Five check ( tick )
Six check ( toggle along mark of hands the tock)
I scribe soft to the end of line and pirouette fingers end
Marking a period again to end the simple words
Brushed upon a supple velum
And begin
Seven check (tick)
Second hands slow circles
Matching my own...
