We angled ourselves to face Lyra-
I turned repeatedly to him.
Hid in a blanket-cocoon we
beat a rhythm of fingertip-dreams.

We angled ourselves to face Lyra-
I turned repeatedly to him.
He rained prayers and promises;
a sky-full of stars fell down unseen.

We angled ourselves to face Lyra-
I turned one last time to him.
Pinned dead-butterfly colours 
to his mouth, his tongue, his skin.

Tattoo

Jun 5, 2026

June 2026

2026

Anger & Conflict - June 2026

Beauty & Aesthetics - June 2026

Dark & Scary - June 2026

Death & Mortality - June 2026

Drama & Tragedy - June 2026

Family & Relationships - June 2026

Fantasy & Magical - June 2026

Happiness & Joy - June 2026

Heartbreak & Loss - June 2026

Historical & Ancient - June 2026

Hope & Optimism - June 2026

Humor & Satire - June 2026

Inspiration & Motivation - June 2026

Love & Romance - June 2026

Mystery & Supernatural - June 2026

Nature & Environment - June 2026

Philosophical & Intellectual - June 2026

Political & Social - June 2026

Sadness & Melancholy - June 2026

Sexy & Sensual - June 2026

Time & Nostalgia - June 2026

Transformation & Change - June 2026

War & Heroism - June 2026

World & Travel - June 2026

joel-m-frye

Played him like a lyre, you did, as he did you.

removed.-fqnh

There is something seductive about this poem, which makes it all the more enjoyable to read.