the silver chain slithers,
through the strands of deep brown,
holding on to the ice blue,
almost water.
paled by the ice,
tanned skin prickles against
the unworn metal.
eyes glint in the winter sun,
filtered through
the bedroom window.
YOU ARE READING
poetry for the poetic: 5
Poetrythis is my fifth poetry book on this profile! please check out my other 4 x thank you for reading ❤️
XVIII
the silver chain slithers,
through the strands of deep brown,
holding on to the ice blue,
almost water.
paled by the ice,
tanned skin prickles against
the unworn metal.
eyes glint in the winter sun,
filtered through
the bedroom window.