Undone
She looks down from her,
the loose boxy tee hangs nice on her,
but a lonely thread sings on the sleeve of her,
she hears the song like it's made for her.
She pulls the thread carefully from the sleeve of her,
only to find its length longing from her.
She pulls and pulls the thin mass from her,
her shirt peeling like orange skin around and out from her.
Shirt now a white string in the hand of her,
distressed jeans slowly turns the white string blue in the hand of her.
Pulling still, automatically, layers of skin start to detach from her.
Tears spill wildly from her.
Breaths heave hastily from her.
Pulling still, her insides spill haphazardly from her,
as everything has come undone from her.
Below the Eye
A simple kiss right below the eye,
on the breast of the cheek,
could be the sweetest promise
to float on the speckles of time.
Crossing Him
I met him on the sultry fires of lust's roses.
His hair like tangled scents of desire's tears.
His smile the color of his wooden guitar,
in tune with thoughts.
We crossed with a brush of shoulders,
like sword blades in a deep kiss.
My eyes chase the tail of his leather coat,
until it dances between the legs of night.
Come back my way.
I stare into the eyes of mist holding him,
singing honey lullabies,
until he falls asleep and he dreams of my skin,
the warm breath of time.
My legs between the warm embryos of life,
never knowing, only missing the idea of him.
Walking Next To Him
Walking next to HimI have vision,
as if my eyes where the shadow to his optic lobe suspended in air,
exhaled from his lungs,
orbiting his lips waiting to be inhaled again.
In his soul I want to dwell,
lingering the scent of me, honey and tea
wrapped in forget-me-nots and love poems,
standing gently against the wall in the alcove of his heart;
there is where we dance to his laughter.
I want to bathe in it,
rub my body with his smile,
healing me, accepting me, befriending me,
tempting me to be more.
I want to be more,
I taste more in him, and he taste of mangos
and pomegranates soiling my reality,
saturating me always with sugar and lemon stains on my skirt;
bringing me to duality;
woman and human.
I want to walk with him holding thoughts like hands,
soft as they fold into...
filling in the spaces between the lines,
like words filling in the spaces of minds,
dividing time into poems about us,
a love so wise as we stride on sueded bricks
with swinging hips
and flushed lips and hair golden on the tips manifesting trips
to lands once traveled previously; perpetually.
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