It's dawn
your voice is raspy
just the perfect time
for you to whisper my name
and pull me closer, grab me.
Throw the misconceptions
that you can hold me down
amongst our pile of clothes
on the ground.
Listen, you can hold me
in your head
but in reality
my body is not meant
to be shadowed,
not to be led.
Let my nails turn
your back into art,
my hands
mould desire in your body
I am a poet
wanting to write
my lust on my muse
like poetry.
YOU ARE READING
Words that escaped
PoetrySometimes I think of a word and sentences follow. Poetry is emotions that escape through these words. Give these poems a read, pretty please! I write with all my soul.
