my thighs part like butter, like the spaces between your lashes, the gaps between your knuckles and/
your hands are splayed across my sides/spanning a universe of skin, the fertile planes of my sun soaked shoulders/ your teeth are figs, and honey/ weathering the stones in my tongue, sanding my gums pliant, soft/your neck is tender, vulnerable, and i press against the clay of your ribs/moulding into your bones the whorls hidden in my fingertips/carve against your eyelids the curl in my lip
YOU ARE READING
tyrants
Poetrythe kind of love i've been dreaming of 2018 - 2023 #29 in poetry, 2nd april 2023 #56 in prose, 23rd may 2019 #16 in non fiction, 6th april 2023
